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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer 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 Talk Talk to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
John Foxx,
Soulsonic Force,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Alison Limerick,
Cameo,
Aswad,
Moss Icon,
The Monochrome Set,
the Bar-Kays,
Q and Not U,
Sex Pistols,
The Motions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Moon,
Fluxion,
Brass Construction,
The Smiths,
Bobby Womack,
The Dead C,
The Cure,
Zero Boys,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Red Krayola,
Youth Brigade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Judy Mowatt,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rapeman,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
Symarip,
Max Romeo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Loose Ends,
Icehouse,
Colin Newman,
Black Bananas,
Cluster,
Black Pus,
Minnie Riperton,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
L. Decosne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blancmange,
Lungfish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Associates,
Wire,
Todd Rundgren,
Theoretical Girls,
Accadde A,
The Angels of Light,
The Beau Brummels,
Archie Shepp,
The Toasters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.