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 Belarus and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Red Krayola to the grime 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Black Dice,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Unwound,
Porter Ricks,
The Slackers,
Q and Not U,
Amazonics,
Stiv Bators,
Dawn Penn,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Godley & Creme,
the Slits,
Marmalade,
Andrew Hill,
Davy DMX,
Ituana,
Bill Near,
AZ,
The United States of America,
Suicide,
The Monochrome Set,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blossom Toes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mr. Review,
Tom Boy,
Bush Tetras,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lou Christie,
Kayak,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deadbeat,
Index,
Masters at Work,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
Radiohead,
Johnny Osbourne,
Freddie Wadling,
Fugazi,
Marshall Jefferson,
Grauzone,
Pere Ubu,
Lungfish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dead Boys,
Pussy Galore,
Skriet,
Theoretical Girls,
Mantronix,
Prince Buster,
Skarface,
Minny Pops,
Juan Atkins,
Sarah Menescal,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dave Gahan,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Saints,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.