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 Chad and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Count Five 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Qualms,
Shoche,
Eric Dolphy,
Skarface,
Von Mondo,
Matthew Bourne,
Franke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
cv313,
Mantronix,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Peter and Kerry,
Eve St. Jones,
Procol Harum,
Panda Bear,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tommy Roe,
Bob Dylan,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
The Associates,
This Heat,
Ultra Naté,
Massinfluence,
Brand Nubian,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Glambeats Corp.,
Erykah Badu,
Whodini,
The Fugs,
Dual Sessions,
New York Dolls,
the Slits,
Arcadia,
Darondo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sandy B,
Kas Product,
The Cowsills,
Connie Case,
The Doors,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
Dawn Penn,
X-102,
Mark Hollis,
Alphaville,
The Wake,
Audionom,
Marshall Jefferson,
Colin Newman,
Moebius,
Warren Ellis,
Depeche Mode,
Frankie Knuckles,
Metal Thangz,
Electric Prunes,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.