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 Finland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
The New Christs,
Ralphi Rosario,
B.T. Express,
The Motions,
ABC,
Sam Rivers,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Normal,
Monks,
Urselle,
Black Pus,
The Kinks,
Black Flag,
Lakeside,
Ten City,
The Fall,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
X-102,
Severed Heads,
Rekid,
Terrestrial Tones,
New York Dolls,
Underground Resistance,
Big Daddy Kane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Slave,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Association,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
Cecil Taylor,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ponytail,
Dave Gahan,
The Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Negative Approach,
The Knickerbockers,
Brass Construction,
Japan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Durutti Column,
Agent Orange,
Scion,
the Soft Cell,
Roxy Music,
Don Cherry,
Bobby Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Bananas,
Joensuu 1685,
David Bowie,
Graham Central Station,
Alton Ellis,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cowsills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Max Romeo,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.