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 Solomon Islands and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 Donny Hathaway to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Danielle Patucci,
The Litter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang of Four,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Amon Düül,
Joey Negro,
Simply Red,
The Alarm Clocks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Iggy Pop,
The Cure,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonic Youth,
Aural Exciters,
EPMD,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Average White Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Monochrome Set,
Chrome,
La Düsseldorf,
The Seeds,
Barry Ungar,
The Young Rascals,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flamin' Groovies,
8 Eyed Spy,
Spoonie Gee,
New York Dolls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joy Division,
Graham Central Station,
Agent Orange,
Radiopuhelimet,
H. Thieme,
Easy Going,
Dual Sessions,
Terrestrial Tones,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
A Certain Ratio,
Deadbeat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Animal Collective,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Martian,
Jandek,
Urselle,
Deepchord,
K-Klass,
The Durutti Column,
Clear Light,
Country Teasers,
Mad Mike,
Jesper Dahlback,
The United States of America,
Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.