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 France and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum 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 T.S.O.L. to the grunge 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
Public Image Ltd.,
H. Thieme,
Ronnie Foster,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wolf Eyes,
Animal Collective,
Sam Rivers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Spandau Ballet,
The J.B.'s,
Eden Ahbez,
Aural Exciters,
Sister Nancy,
LL Cool J,
Silicon Teens,
The Saints,
The Litter,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slackers,
The Black Dice,
The Kinks,
Ultravox,
Toni Rubio,
Andrew Hill,
Warren Ellis,
Jacob Miller,
Japan,
Rekid,
Eurythmics,
Index,
The Moody Blues,
Albert Ayler,
Brothers Johnson,
Jandek,
Au Pairs,
Television Personalities,
Metal Thangz,
Tomorrow,
Deakin,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Green,
Soulsonic Force,
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Smooth,
Jacques Brel,
The Slits,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Josef K,
Ludus,
Neu!,
The Zeros,
Quando Quango,
Ituana,
Rapeman,
The Barracudas,
John Lydon,
Kenny Larkin,
Tubeway Army,
Bauhaus,
Gabor Szabo,
Matthew Bourne,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.