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 Equatorial Guinea and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Lalann to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ash Ra Tempel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Copeland,
Sixth Finger,
Deadbeat,
Sällskapet,
Lightning Bolt,
MDC,
Ohio Players,
The Selecter,
Bill Near,
Echospace,
Chrome,
Neil Young,
Tubeway Army,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
8 Eyed Spy,
Susan Cadogan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Supertramp,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Iggy Pop,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
Grey Daturas,
Sister Nancy,
Average White Band,
The Dead C,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Searchers,
the Slits,
Black Sheep,
Kas Product,
Fugazi,
The Litter,
Lou Reed,
Vladislav Delay,
The Evens,
Soft Cell,
Blancmange,
Porter Ricks,
Electric Prunes,
Donald Byrd,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
PIL,
Easy Going,
the Fania All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Niagra,
The Music Machine,
Ronan,
Deepchord,
Reagan Youth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Guru Guru,
John Lydon,
Deakin,
Adolescents,
Moebius,
Agent Orange,
The Grass Roots,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.