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 Micronesia and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Malaria!,
Rod Modell,
Banda Bassotti,
Yazoo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Ronnie Foster,
The Cure,
The Misunderstood,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slackers,
Trumans Water,
Motorama,
Echospace,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed,
Unwound,
The Evens,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Doors,
Schoolly D,
Pantaleimon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crooked Eye,
Roger Hodgson,
Jacob Miller,
Andrew Hill,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
Hasil Adkins,
Ponytail,
Robert Görl,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rekid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DNA,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harmonia,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lalo Schifrin,
Procol Harum,
kango's stein massive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Monks,
The Star Department,
Angry Samoans,
Spoonie Gee,
Depeche Mode,
Nirvana,
The Barracudas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stetsasonic,
The Toasters,
Babytalk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ohio Players,
Saccharine Trust,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.