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 Namibia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 L. Decosne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Dual Sessions,
Bobby Womack,
Leonard Cohen,
John Coltrane,
The United States of America,
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sugar Minott,
a-ha,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Slackers,
Patti Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Doors,
Cybotron,
Darondo,
Boz Scaggs,
Lower 48,
Public Enemy,
Marvin Gaye,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jacques Brel,
The Monochrome Set,
Ituana,
Quando Quango,
Metal Thangz,
The Associates,
Freddie Wadling,
Lalo Schifrin,
Slick Rick,
Alice Coltrane,
The Kinks,
Soul II Soul,
Whodini,
Aural Exciters,
ABBA,
Ten City,
The Misunderstood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grauzone,
Anakelly,
the Germs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aswad,
Infiniti,
Stockholm Monsters,
Goldenarms,
Ice-T,
Roxy Music,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Half Japanese,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Intrusion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Skarface,
Bronski Beat,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.