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 Andorra and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia 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 Throbbing Gristle to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ronnie Foster,
Tom Boy,
Drive Like Jehu,
48th St. Collective,
The Birthday Party,
Man Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
Mr. Review,
ABC,
The Associates,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ken Boothe,
Blossom Toes,
Lindisfarne,
John Coltrane,
D'Angelo,
The Smoke,
Tears for Fears,
Funkadelic,
Arthur Verocai,
Neu!,
Graham Central Station,
Derrick Morgan,
Arab on Radar,
Archie Shepp,
The Zeros,
Sparks,
Absolute Body Control,
the Slits,
Nico,
Laurel Aitken,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Vogues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lyres,
Gang Green,
Minor Threat,
Ohio Players,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultra Naté,
The Monks,
Aural Exciters,
The Dead C,
The Pretty Things,
CMW,
Joyce Sims,
Black Flag,
Jandek,
Motorama,
Flipper,
Saccharine Trust,
Tomorrow,
Ponytail,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Invisible,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Young Marble Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.