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 Ghana and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin 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 Marmalade to the punk 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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Steve Hackett,
Make Up,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sarah Menescal,
Kurtis Blow,
Mission of Burma,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
Arcadia,
Urselle,
Yaz,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Man Parrish,
Colin Newman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mark Hollis,
Roger Hodgson,
The Mummies,
Josef K,
Nation of Ulysses,
Moby Grape,
The Red Krayola,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Interpol,
Chris Corsano,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerri Chandler,
The Index,
Juan Atkins,
Sonic Youth,
Radiohead,
The United States of America,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dead Boys,
Bush Tetras,
cv313,
Sister Nancy,
David McCallum,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Green,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Scratch Acid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fluxion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pantaleimon,
Lalann,
Ten City,
One Last Wish,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.