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 Tanzania and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Shadows of Knight to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Swans,
Fear,
Derrick Morgan,
Amon Düül II,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Michelle Simonal,
Grauzone,
Stereo Dub,
Oblivians,
The Gap Band,
Terry Callier,
Camouflage,
Goldenarms,
Ludus,
Soft Machine,
Susan Cadogan,
Procol Harum,
Surgeon,
Don Cherry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minnie Riperton,
MC5,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Hashim,
Rotary Connection,
Kas Product,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Skarface,
Second Layer,
DNA,
Soft Cell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang Gang Dance,
48th St. Collective,
a-ha,
The Remains,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brick,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Barracudas,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Crash Course in Science,
Dark Day,
X-102,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Depeche Mode,
June Days,
The Slits,
Gabor Szabo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Moon,
Ituana,
Bobby Sherman,
Mission of Burma,
The Fuzztones,
Heaven 17,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Index,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.