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 Eritrea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ 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 John Cale to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Das Ding,
Arab on Radar,
Sound Behaviour,
the Normal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeff Mills,
Silicon Teens,
The Zeros,
Cecil Taylor,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
Brand Nubian,
Ultravox,
Nirvana,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Fania All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
ABC,
New Age Steppers,
The Trojans,
Harry Pussy,
Junior Murvin,
Minor Threat,
Aaron Thompson,
The Walker Brothers,
Monolake,
ABBA,
Dave Gahan,
Dawn Penn,
Maurizio,
DJ Sneak,
Masters at Work,
Pussy Galore,
Gichy Dan,
Colin Newman,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
Freddie Wadling,
Visage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Essential Logic,
L. Decosne,
Wolf Eyes,
Wire,
Lou Reed,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deepchord,
Terrestrial Tones,
La Düsseldorf,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Icehouse,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grauzone,
Ten City,
Porter Ricks,
Isaac Hayes,
Soulsonic Force,
Scion,
Circle Jerks,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.