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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Soft Machine to the rap 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Q and Not U,
The Victims,
Franke,
Fat Boys,
The Fugs,
Outsiders,
Average White Band,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Reuben Wilson,
48th St. Collective,
Donald Byrd,
FM Einheit,
kango's stein massive,
The Dirtbombs,
Funkadelic,
Marine Girls,
DNA,
Masters at Work,
The Red Krayola,
Warsaw,
Slave,
Faust,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
La Düsseldorf,
Hashim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Foxx,
Eli Mardock,
Mo-Dettes,
Suicide,
Jandek,
Country Teasers,
Colin Newman,
Make Up,
Brothers Johnson,
Siglo XX,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tres Demented,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ituana,
Funky Four + One,
Audionom,
Marshall Jefferson,
Yellowson,
Roxy Music,
One Last Wish,
Suburban Knight,
Jawbox,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Young Rascals,
Scratch Acid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scott Walker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.