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 Argentina and from Shanghai.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin 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 Neil Young to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Bobby Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
Connie Case,
Index,
Johnny Clarke,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chrome,
Bad Manners,
The Count Five,
Dead Boys,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Bar-Kays,
The Selecter,
Sight & Sound,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Josef K,
The Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Khruangbin,
The Gladiators,
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
China Crisis,
Dawn Penn,
Ralphi Rosario,
ABC,
Marc Almond,
Juan Atkins,
The Blues Magoos,
Alison Limerick,
The Zeros,
L. Decosne,
The Barracudas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jeff Mills,
Henry Cow,
A Certain Ratio,
Dorothy Ashby,
AZ,
Ken Boothe,
Blake Baxter,
Chris Corsano,
Mission of Burma,
Thompson Twins,
Erykah Badu,
Pagans,
Tres Demented,
Minny Pops,
Lou Christie,
Angry Samoans,
The Divine Comedy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Supertramp,
Soft Cell,
Susan Cadogan,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.