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 Syria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Spandau Ballet to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Lucky Dragons,
Stiv Bators,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Neon Judgement,
Crooked Eye,
Fear,
Chris & Cosey,
The Monks,
Eve St. Jones,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Tommy Roe,
Malaria!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cowsills,
Quando Quango,
D'Angelo,
Pantytec,
UT,
Erasure,
Ultra Naté,
Y Pants,
Heaven 17,
Albert Ayler,
Dennis Brown,
Symarip,
Tom Boy,
Altered Images,
Little Man,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Black Dice,
Neu!,
the Germs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Circle Jerks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Misunderstood,
Outsiders,
Robert Wyatt,
The Five Americans,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Selecter,
Icehouse,
Terry Callier,
Smog,
Accadde A,
Gong,
Pere Ubu,
Roxy Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Dark Day,
Dead Boys,
Warren Ellis,
The Invisible,
The Smoke,
Von Mondo,
Bill Near,
La Düsseldorf,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.