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 Belize and from New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 ABC to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Association,
ABC,
The Music Machine,
the Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ice-T,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cure,
Soulsonic Force,
The Blues Magoos,
Sexual Harrassment,
F. McDonald,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Associates,
The Doobie Brothers,
Skaos,
Y Pants,
The Moleskins,
Boz Scaggs,
Faraquet,
Juan Atkins,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
The Names,
Sun Ra,
The Angels of Light,
Henry Cow,
Gang Green,
Absolute Body Control,
OOIOO,
Second Layer,
Franke,
Theoretical Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Sheep,
Rod Modell,
MC5,
Scan 7,
Mars,
Can,
Radiopuhelimet,
June Days,
Gang Starr,
Lucky Dragons,
Schoolly D,
John Holt,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Happenings,
Leonard Cohen,
Harry Pussy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
E-Dancer,
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
B.T. Express,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.