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 Oman and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum 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 T. Rex to the rock 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 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 Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
KRS-One,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Metal Thangz,
The Pop Group,
Donny Hathaway,
Easy Going,
The Gories,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Fluxion,
Au Pairs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boredoms,
Mission of Burma,
The Gladiators,
The Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Severed Heads,
Depeche Mode,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Young Rascals,
Jeff Mills,
Vladislav Delay,
Rufus Thomas,
Los Fastidios,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
Prince Buster,
Bad Manners,
The Last Poets,
Ken Boothe,
Make Up,
Davy DMX,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
R.M.O.,
Chrome,
Piero Umiliani,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pylon,
Rakim,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pussy Galore,
MDC,
Magazine,
Patti Smith,
UT,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mo-Dettes,
Todd Rundgren,
Howard Jones,
Robert Wyatt,
The Walker Brothers,
Oneida,
The Motions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Big Daddy Kane,
Black Bananas,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.