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 Croatia and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Foxx to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jacques Brel,
Flash Fearless,
World's Most,
Half Japanese,
Gang Starr,
H. Thieme,
DJ Style,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Franke,
The Residents,
Nas,
Ultravox,
the Normal,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
JFA,
Fugazi,
Sun Ra,
Subhumans,
Absolute Body Control,
LL Cool J,
Eli Mardock,
Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Alice Coltrane,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Graham Central Station,
Black Sheep,
Dawn Penn,
Hoover,
Quando Quango,
Marc Almond,
Suicide,
Boredoms,
Mark Hollis,
Eurythmics,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobby Sherman,
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Darondo,
48th St. Collective,
Duran Duran,
Guru Guru,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Techniques,
Public Image Ltd.,
La Düsseldorf,
Flamin' Groovies,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Wake,
James White and The Blacks,
The Standells,
Sugar Minott,
Oneida,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.