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 Bhutan and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 David Bowie 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
Easy Going,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Zeros,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Flipper,
Rapeman,
The Barracudas,
Can,
The Birthday Party,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Modern Lovers,
Minnie Riperton,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
Delon & Dalcan,
R.M.O.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The United States of America,
Bad Manners,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amon Düül,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Erykah Badu,
John Coltrane,
The Offenders,
Nick Fraelich,
Pierre Henry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Martian,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moody Blues,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crooked Eye,
Flash Fearless,
The Slackers,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Five Americans,
The Fugs,
Goldenarms,
David Bowie,
Byron Stingily,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wolf Eyes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Matthew Bourne,
Soft Cell,
Unwound,
JFA,
Funky Four + One,
L. Decosne,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Newcleus,
Sam Rivers,
Camberwell Now,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joe Finger,
Bizarre Inc.,
Severed Heads,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.