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 Albania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Faraquet to the techno 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dirtbombs,
Roxette,
Second Layer,
The Red Krayola,
Tres Demented,
The Mummies,
Crooked Eye,
Zero Boys,
The Martian,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Erasure,
Wings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Aswad,
The New Christs,
Thompson Twins,
The Young Rascals,
The Gun Club,
the Soft Cell,
Toni Rubio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quando Quango,
Babytalk,
Jacques Brel,
Robert Görl,
Jerry's Kids,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
DJ Style,
China Crisis,
Crash Course in Science,
T.S.O.L.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jacob Miller,
Kaleidoscope,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quadrant,
Althea and Donna,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Sherman,
JFA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy Collins,
10cc,
The Moleskins,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hardrive,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eden Ahbez,
Moss Icon,
Newcleus,
Vainqueur,
Nik Kershaw,
Big Daddy Kane,
The United States of America,
Marine Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sonics,
EPMD,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.