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 Tanzania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kevin Saunderson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dennis Brown,
Anakelly,
The Dirtbombs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Maurizio,
Livin' Joy,
Magazine,
The Standells,
Terrestrial Tones,
Talk Talk,
U.S. Maple,
H. Thieme,
R.M.O.,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Moleskins,
The Smiths,
Little Man,
Slave,
Con Funk Shun,
Agent Orange,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
David McCallum,
Easy Going,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
The Velvet Underground,
The Searchers,
The Move,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gun Club,
Chris Corsano,
Adolescents,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Clear Light,
Magma,
Radio Birdman,
Cheater Slicks,
K-Klass,
Susan Cadogan,
Swans,
The American Breed,
The Residents,
Swell Maps,
Mad Mike,
Rakim,
Crooked Eye,
Maleditus Sound,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Derrick May,
The Shadows of Knight,
Colin Newman,
Bronski Beat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
Lower 48,
John Cale,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.