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 Korea North and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Wasted Youth to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Skriet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bluetip,
Pantaleimon,
The Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DNA,
Lebanon Hanover,
Echospace,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Foxx,
Television Personalities,
Bush Tetras,
Altered Images,
EPMD,
The Litter,
Brick,
Organ,
Vladislav Delay,
Warren Ellis,
Donald Byrd,
48th St. Collective,
Grey Daturas,
Surgeon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soft Machine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joyce Sims,
Sight & Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Saints,
DJ Sneak,
Ohio Players,
Siglo XX,
Lower 48,
Babytalk,
Lyres,
Main Source,
Funkadelic,
Subhumans,
cv313,
Kayak,
Johnny Clarke,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Jacques Brel,
Massinfluence,
Warsaw,
Inner City,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Janne Schatter,
The Neon Judgement,
Minor Threat,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.