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 Japan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bang On A Can to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '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 Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Swell Maps,
Suicide,
Jacob Miller,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Visage,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Trumans Water,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eurythmics,
Eve St. Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
World's Most,
X-Ray Spex,
Nils Olav,
Gichy Dan,
Jacques Brel,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
OOIOO,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Misunderstood,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed,
Andrew Hill,
Audionom,
Aswad,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hardrive,
Cecil Taylor,
Bob Dylan,
Maurizio,
Lyres,
Mo-Dettes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Kinks,
Pussy Galore,
Junior Murvin,
Newcleus,
Bill Near,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Bananas,
Dead Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Prunes,
Peter and Kerry,
Cameo,
kango's stein massive,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Howard Jones,
Tim Buckley,
Sun City Girls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter,
Grauzone,
Fear,
The Monochrome Set,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vladislav Delay,
Dawn Penn,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sandy B,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.