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 Djibouti and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the techno 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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
Pulsallama,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hot Snakes,
Marvin Gaye,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nils Olav,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Invisible,
Yusef Lateef,
The Trojans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Move,
The Black Dice,
The Monochrome Set,
The Skatalites,
Bang On A Can,
Tres Demented,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Fat Boys,
Bill Wells,
The Mojo Men,
the Normal,
Amon Düül,
Neil Young,
Steve Hackett,
Roxette,
The Last Poets,
The Dave Clark Five,
Audionom,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang of Four,
The Real Kids,
The Detroit Cobras,
Zapp,
Minutemen,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Harry Pussy,
Tim Buckley,
Rosa Yemen,
Q and Not U,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wally Richardson,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeff Mills,
Sparks,
Connie Case,
Fela Kuti,
Leonard Cohen,
Interpol,
Panda Bear,
The Blues Magoos,
Ronan,
The Misunderstood,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scratch Acid,
Gang Gang Dance,
Donald Byrd,
Cheater Slicks,
Depeche Mode,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.