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 Australia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Clear Light,
Pierre Henry,
Lakeside,
The Moleskins,
Wire,
Charles Mingus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The New Christs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Juan Atkins,
Chris & Cosey,
Lungfish,
Lou Reed,
The Shadows of Knight,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Sheep,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cluster,
Michelle Simonal,
U.S. Maple,
Robert Görl,
Kaleidoscope,
Japan,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Remains,
Vainqueur,
Wolf Eyes,
Oneida,
Organ,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Godley & Creme,
Soft Machine,
Soulsonic Force,
Malaria!,
These Immortal Souls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ponytail,
The Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Desert Stars,
Iggy Pop,
The Count Five,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Zeros,
Neu!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Camouflage,
Radio Birdman,
T.S.O.L.,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
This Heat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Section 25,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cybotron,
The Fall,
Yazoo,
Yusef Lateef,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.