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 Cameroon and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Skriet 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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Neu!,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Starr,
OOIOO,
Deakin,
Byron Stingily,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bill Near,
Arcadia,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Newcleus,
Brick,
Sixth Finger,
Black Pus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
DJ Sneak,
Adolescents,
The Electric Prunes,
Eden Ahbez,
E-Dancer,
Susan Cadogan,
Arab on Radar,
Faust,
Aswad,
Audionom,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Surgeon,
Popol Vuh,
the Normal,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gabor Szabo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Morten Harket,
Desert Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Throbbing Gristle,
Clear Light,
The Move,
Quantec,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
The Motions,
Minnie Riperton,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Siglo XX,
Sound Behaviour,
Royal Trux,
MC5,
Ralphi Rosario,
Talk Talk,
Brass Construction,
Alison Limerick,
Flipper,
New Age Steppers,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.