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 South Sudan and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grime 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Sandy B,
Shoche,
Reuben Wilson,
Joe Smooth,
Gichy Dan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mark Hollis,
Wally Richardson,
Blancmange,
Faraquet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Con Funk Shun,
Icehouse,
Jacques Brel,
Basic Channel,
Bluetip,
The New Christs,
Hot Snakes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Durutti Column,
Supertramp,
Reagan Youth,
The Victims,
Technova,
The Kinks,
Marine Girls,
The Cramps,
The Monochrome Set,
Make Up,
OOIOO,
Malaria!,
Nas,
Moby Grape,
Nils Olav,
Audionom,
The Buckinghams,
L. Decosne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Interpol,
Davy DMX,
Jerry's Kids,
Carl Craig,
The Dead C,
Graham Central Station,
Leonard Cohen,
Buzzcocks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Echospace,
Swell Maps,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Motorama,
Joyce Sims,
Amon Düül,
Amazonics,
The Real Kids,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
Ituana,
The Blues Magoos,
Can,
Eli Mardock,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.