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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Moon to the dance 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Don Cherry,
Iggy Pop,
Basic Channel,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crispian St. Peters,
New Order,
Saccharine Trust,
Swell Maps,
Sight & Sound,
Pagans,
Crash Course in Science,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rapeman,
Negative Approach,
The Birthday Party,
Delon & Dalcan,
Steve Hackett,
Lucky Dragons,
Archie Shepp,
Circle Jerks,
Roxy Music,
Colin Newman,
Sandy B,
The Fortunes,
the Germs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Erasure,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Johnny Clarke,
The Walker Brothers,
Lyres,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gang Starr,
Urselle,
The Gun Club,
Kayak,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Real Kids,
Wire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
10cc,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brand Nubian,
Flipper,
Pere Ubu,
Stereo Dub,
The Star Department,
The Buckinghams,
Organ,
Moebius,
Accadde A,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kerrie Biddell,
the Human League,
James White and The Blacks,
Radiohead,
Wally Richardson,
AZ,
Can,
Intrusion,
The Alarm Clocks,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.