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 Palau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar 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 Lower 48 to the dance 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Man Parrish,
a-ha,
Yaz,
Eric Dolphy,
Maurizio,
Alison Limerick,
The Black Dice,
Warsaw,
Bluetip,
Wire,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stereo Dub,
Masters at Work,
Black Sheep,
World's Most,
Prince Buster,
Bootsy Collins,
Josef K,
Scott Walker,
Half Japanese,
Ponytail,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Q and Not U,
Das Ding,
Patti Smith,
Pole,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Flash Fearless,
Hoover,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ultra Naté,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Adolescents,
The Misunderstood,
Franke,
Surgeon,
Monks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bronski Beat,
Minny Pops,
John Cale,
Tres Demented,
Robert Görl,
One Last Wish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tubeway Army,
Sixth Finger,
Scientists,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Newcleus,
Babytalk,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.