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 Cyprus and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Basic Channel 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
World's Most,
T. Rex,
The Dave Clark Five,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Teasers,
The Fugs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Echospace,
The Sound,
Model 500,
Gong,
Lou Christie,
Pussy Galore,
Eric Dolphy,
X-Ray Spex,
Yellowson,
Matthew Halsall,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sam Rivers,
Sister Nancy,
Wings,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
48th St. Collective,
Television,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q and Not U,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
Swell Maps,
Kaleidoscope,
Pantytec,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Byrd,
Cal Tjader,
Cymande,
Bill Wells,
Junior Murvin,
Wasted Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
This Heat,
Monks,
The Buckinghams,
The Monks,
The Leaves,
Oblivians,
Marc Almond,
The Vogues,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Cramps,
The Monochrome Set,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Funkadelic,
Jacques Brel,
Porter Ricks,
Maurizio,
Bob Dylan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.