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 Djibouti and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord 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 Youth Brigade to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Infiniti,
Ossler,
The Saints,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Holt,
The Happenings,
Little Man,
Public Enemy,
The Fall,
Alison Limerick,
LL Cool J,
Pierre Henry,
Banda Bassotti,
The Blues Magoos,
The Five Americans,
Shuggie Otis,
Bootsy Collins,
The Real Kids,
The Stooges,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Steve Hackett,
The Gories,
Agent Orange,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dual Sessions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David McCallum,
the Germs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Vogues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Matthew Halsall,
Avey Tare,
The Smoke,
Davy DMX,
CMW,
Zapp,
The Sonics,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fela Kuti,
Sarah Menescal,
David Bowie,
Bronski Beat,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Camouflage,
Bob Dylan,
Wings,
The Blackbyrds,
Maleditus Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Sister Nancy,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gun Club,
Harpers Bizarre,
Todd Terry,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.