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 Cyprus and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Alison Limerick to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
Gong,
The American Breed,
The Offenders,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Popol Vuh,
Soft Cell,
Pere Ubu,
Sarah Menescal,
Reuben Wilson,
John Coltrane,
Cybotron,
The Names,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Warsaw,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
Moss Icon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Harry Pussy,
Young Marble Giants,
Scion,
KRS-One,
Piero Umiliani,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Standells,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Dolphy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Interpol,
The Litter,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
Gabor Szabo,
Technova,
Malaria!,
Hoover,
Aloha Tigers,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Gastr Del Sol,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Neon Judgement,
Sällskapet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Seeds,
Aural Exciters,
Joe Finger,
Yaz,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Almond,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.