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 Tanzania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Litter to the techno 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hashim,
Eric Copeland,
Desert Stars,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mandrill,
Newcleus,
Popol Vuh,
Scratch Acid,
Siglo XX,
Big Daddy Kane,
E-Dancer,
Soft Cell,
Agitation Free,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Los Fastidios,
Judy Mowatt,
JFA,
The Young Rascals,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pet Shop Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
T. Rex,
One Last Wish,
The Monks,
Brand Nubian,
China Crisis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
These Immortal Souls,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Residents,
Fad Gadget,
Johnny Clarke,
Niagra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
Moebius,
Josef K,
Joey Negro,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jacques Brel,
Royal Trux,
Isaac Hayes,
The Victims,
Masters at Work,
Trumans Water,
Blossom Toes,
The Monochrome Set,
John Holt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Excepter,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Cale,
Andrew Hill,
Erasure,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.