Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mauritius and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Dead Boys to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Brick. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dorothy Ashby,
Intrusion,
Newcleus,
Magazine,
Arthur Verocai,
Brothers Johnson,
Visage,
Niagra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Halsall,
Mr. Review,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
the Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Pussy Galore,
Minnie Riperton,
The Birthday Party,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tom Boy,
The New Christs,
Franke,
Delta 5,
Terry Callier,
Shuggie Otis,
Fad Gadget,
The Gun Club,
Chris & Cosey,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
JFA,
Porter Ricks,
Theoretical Girls,
Sandy B,
Warren Ellis,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Prunes,
Guru Guru,
Sarah Menescal,
David Axelrod,
Monks,
Minor Threat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Grass Roots,
Carl Craig,
Surgeon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Essential Logic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Flag,
The Martian,
Shoche,
The Evens,
Lalann,
the Germs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
48th St. Collective,
Adolescents,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.