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 Cuba and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Techniques to the disco 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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?
Infiniti,
Carl Craig,
Byron Stingily,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mission of Burma,
Kas Product,
Livin' Joy,
New Age Steppers,
The Dead C,
JFA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Panda Bear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Foxx,
Das Ding,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ponytail,
Fatback Band,
the Slits,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joey Negro,
Minny Pops,
Jeff Mills,
Jandek,
The Pretty Things,
Lalann,
Duran Duran,
Masters at Work,
Heaven 17,
Symarip,
Gong,
The Slits,
Reagan Youth,
New Order,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Bootsy Collins,
the Soft Cell,
Amazonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Newcleus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Reuben Wilson,
Anthony Braxton,
Josef K,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Angels of Light,
The Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Brass Construction,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
A Certain Ratio,
The Divine Comedy,
Juan Atkins,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
June of 44,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.