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 Gabon and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joe Finger to the crunk 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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
R.M.O.,
The Cowsills,
Graham Central Station,
Little Man,
John Coltrane,
Ken Boothe,
The Fall,
Symarip,
The Fuzztones,
Supertramp,
The Skatalites,
The Fugs,
the Normal,
Flamin' Groovies,
48th St. Collective,
Prince Buster,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camouflage,
Gichy Dan,
Newcleus,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fad Gadget,
The Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Janne Schatter,
The Tremeloes,
Vainqueur,
Loose Ends,
Rod Modell,
Guru Guru,
Slave,
Panda Bear,
Urselle,
Ronan,
Andrew Hill,
Saccharine Trust,
Hardrive,
Blancmange,
Deepchord,
Joe Smooth,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Soft Machine,
Chrome,
Faust,
Carl Craig,
Crash Course in Science,
T. Rex,
Marine Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magazine,
Steve Hackett,
The Misunderstood,
Quadrant,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Style,
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.