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 Marshall Islands and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Oneida to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Faust,
Whodini,
Darondo,
T. Rex,
Eve St. Jones,
Derrick May,
Barry Ungar,
Adolescents,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Residents,
Rod Modell,
Lightning Bolt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cluster,
Tommy Roe,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
David McCallum,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Symarip,
Procol Harum,
Moby Grape,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
The Techniques,
Mantronix,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marc Almond,
John Holt,
Pierre Henry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thompson Twins,
Parry Music,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deepchord,
Minny Pops,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Enemy,
Nirvana,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Basic Channel,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Panda Bear,
The Dead C,
Moebius,
Khruangbin,
The Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Y Pants,
These Immortal Souls,
Ponytail,
Roy Ayers,
Ohio Players,
Rapeman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Amon Düül,
Delta 5,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.