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 Vanuatu and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Lou Reed 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 Neon Judgement to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Charles Mingus,
Skarface,
the Sonics,
Flipper,
Surgeon,
Can,
Robert Hood,
L. Decosne,
The Kinks,
Glenn Branca,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cecil Taylor,
Janne Schatter,
New York Dolls,
Fela Kuti,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Andrew Hill,
Circle Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric Copeland,
Maurizio,
The Gories,
Man Parrish,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rufus Thomas,
Absolute Body Control,
La Düsseldorf,
Ponytail,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nick Fraelich,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Modern Lovers,
The Index,
Little Man,
Neil Young,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Holt,
Susan Cadogan,
Moebius,
Sonic Youth,
OOIOO,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pussy Galore,
Lower 48,
Joey Negro,
the Human League,
Index,
The Young Rascals,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacob Miller,
Blossom Toes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Country Teasers,
Skaos,
Todd Rundgren,
Tropical Tobacco,
Shuggie Otis,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.