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 Nigeria and from New York.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kayak to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 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 Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Joey Negro,
Technova,
Joe Finger,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Rapeman,
Matthew Bourne,
Simply Red,
The Shadows of Knight,
Subhumans,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fire Engines,
Lyres,
The Golliwogs,
Model 500,
Lou Reed,
The Searchers,
Gang of Four,
John Cale,
Babytalk,
Silicon Teens,
Lindisfarne,
Nico,
Funky Four + One,
Kenny Larkin,
The Real Kids,
Talk Talk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barclay James Harvest,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minnie Riperton,
The New Christs,
the Normal,
Siglo XX,
Chrome,
Deakin,
The Vogues,
Pylon,
Peter & Gordon,
Sight & Sound,
The Five Americans,
Black Bananas,
Make Up,
The Flesh Eaters,
Althea and Donna,
The Techniques,
The Count Five,
Max Romeo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare,
the Germs,
Arthur Verocai,
Alphaville,
Howard Jones,
Cluster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Surgeon,
David Bowie,
Idris Muhammad,
Sam Rivers,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.