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 Algeria and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator 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 the Normal to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
the Slits,
Barclay James Harvest,
Grauzone,
Lakeside,
Animal Collective,
Skriet,
Lalann,
Pharoah Sanders,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
Slave,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radiohead,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra,
Mandrill,
Thompson Twins,
Soul II Soul,
Pole,
H. Thieme,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lower 48,
Iggy Pop,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mars,
The Five Americans,
Roger Hodgson,
Gang Starr,
The Kinks,
Flash Fearless,
The Monochrome Set,
Excepter,
Roxy Music,
One Last Wish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Surgeon,
kango's stein massive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Real Kids,
Khruangbin,
Girls At Our Best!,
F. McDonald,
The Angels of Light,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
This Heat,
Peter and Kerry,
Roy Ayers,
Ludus,
L. Decosne,
The Remains,
The Standells,
MDC,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nation of Ulysses,
Television Personalities,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.