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 Laos and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Smoke to the grunge 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Hood,
The Gories,
Ornette Coleman,
The Wake,
Gang of Four,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fortunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Howard Jones,
The Dead C,
Marvin Gaye,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sun City Girls,
David Bowie,
Nik Kershaw,
Rites of Spring,
Neu!,
Urselle,
Kenny Larkin,
Masters at Work,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Invisible,
The Gladiators,
Dead Boys,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
June Days,
Scrapy,
Cymande,
the Slits,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sparks,
Banda Bassotti,
Q65,
Swans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Negative Approach,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobby Sherman,
Ituana,
Fad Gadget,
The Techniques,
Thompson Twins,
Amon Düül,
Easy Going,
Second Layer,
Nick Fraelich,
the Bar-Kays,
Radiopuhelimet,
Quadrant,
Blake Baxter,
In Retrospect,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Agitation Free,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Infiniti,
Chris & Cosey,
The J.B.'s,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aloha Tigers,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.