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 Ethiopia and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the dance 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Womack,
Minny Pops,
New York Dolls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Heaven 17,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Divine Comedy,
Bill Near,
Magma,
Desert Stars,
The Real Kids,
John Coltrane,
Eli Mardock,
Easy Going,
Icehouse,
The Barracudas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Magazine,
The Misunderstood,
Bush Tetras,
Lucky Dragons,
Roger Hodgson,
The Martian,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Halsall,
Sarah Menescal,
Marmalade,
Radio Birdman,
The Wake,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Slackers,
The Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Traffic Nightmare,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-Ray Spex,
La Düsseldorf,
Kaleidoscope,
the Normal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moss Icon,
Mr. Review,
Gang Green,
Audionom,
Unwound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Aaron Thompson,
The United States of America,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sällskapet,
E-Dancer,
The Vogues,
the Soft Cell,
Qualms,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Warren Ellis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.