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 Morocco and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 Al Stewart to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Can,
The Standells,
The Angels of Light,
Chris & Cosey,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Walker Brothers,
Black Moon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joyce Sims,
The Velvet Underground,
Swans,
Fela Kuti,
The Five Americans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sonic Youth,
Moby Grape,
Niagra,
Ludus,
Gastr Del Sol,
MC5,
Harry Pussy,
Little Man,
Connie Case,
The Cramps,
June Days,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pet Shop Boys,
Morten Harket,
Jacques Brel,
The Tremeloes,
The Music Machine,
Robert Hood,
Michelle Simonal,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Görl,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wire,
Big Daddy Kane,
F. McDonald,
The Star Department,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Colin Newman,
Al Stewart,
Subhumans,
Rotary Connection,
Nas,
B.T. Express,
Judy Mowatt,
Unwound,
Jeff Lynne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fatback Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marine Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rapeman,
Hashim,
The Gories,
Janne Schatter,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.