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 United States and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord 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 Walker Brothers to the rap 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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
Pole,
Wally Richardson,
Sällskapet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Letta Mbulu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
John Foxx,
The Cowsills,
the Germs,
Tom Boy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Japan,
Vladislav Delay,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Suburban Knight,
The Happenings,
Derrick May,
Tubeway Army,
These Immortal Souls,
Malaria!,
Cluster,
Adolescents,
Johnny Osbourne,
Peter and Kerry,
The Count Five,
Agent Orange,
Metal Thangz,
The Moody Blues,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sandy B,
Deadbeat,
Model 500,
The Busters,
John Holt,
Rotary Connection,
The Modern Lovers,
Donald Byrd,
Boredoms,
Roxette,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Doors,
Gastr Del Sol,
Maurizio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dirtbombs,
Ituana,
Brand Nubian,
Minny Pops,
The Martian,
Bobby Byrd,
Organ,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.