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 Tajikistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Wells to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Leonard Cohen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Massinfluence,
Eric Dolphy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gap Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fire Engines,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Essential Logic,
The Moleskins,
Alice Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nico,
Stereo Dub,
Excepter,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Lydon,
Procol Harum,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Fuzztones,
The Buckinghams,
Popol Vuh,
Sister Nancy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marc Almond,
Davy DMX,
Section 25,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mo-Dettes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Quando Quango,
Blossom Toes,
Intrusion,
The Martian,
Zapp,
Country Teasers,
Donald Byrd,
Peter and Kerry,
Vladislav Delay,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
B.T. Express,
Symarip,
Dead Boys,
DJ Style,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Foxx,
Gang Green,
Robert Hood,
Marvin Gaye,
Agitation Free,
Trumans Water,
Thee Headcoats,
Graham Central Station,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Association,
Heaven 17,
Kevin Saunderson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Porter Ricks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.