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 Papua New Guinea and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Steve Hackett to the grime 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Blancmange,
Brass Construction,
Agitation Free,
This Heat,
Danielle Patucci,
Jacques Brel,
Marvin Gaye,
Angry Samoans,
Can,
Peter and Kerry,
The Raincoats,
Minny Pops,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Schoolly D,
Robert Görl,
Young Marble Giants,
Half Japanese,
Buzzcocks,
Marine Girls,
Kayak,
Lakeside,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
Rufus Thomas,
Accadde A,
Pylon,
Camouflage,
The Fall,
the Sonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nik Kershaw,
Kerrie Biddell,
Con Funk Shun,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Knickerbockers,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cramps,
Procol Harum,
Supertramp,
Depeche Mode,
Robert Wyatt,
Rekid,
Los Fastidios,
Lucky Dragons,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Moleskins,
Todd Rundgren,
Tres Demented,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Popol Vuh,
Grauzone,
The Mojo Men,
Pulsallama,
John Foxx,
David Bowie,
Au Pairs,
Nas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.