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 Croatia and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rock 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Invisible,
Reagan Youth,
L. Decosne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Delta 5,
Slick Rick,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
AZ,
the Soft Cell,
Soft Machine,
Ultravox,
Depeche Mode,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Chrome,
Liliput,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Funkadelic,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pretty Things,
Erykah Badu,
X-Ray Spex,
The Barracudas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kaleidoscope,
Masters at Work,
Boredoms,
Supertramp,
Bob Dylan,
Ludus,
Organ,
Monks,
Lalann,
Average White Band,
The Moody Blues,
Fear,
Clear Light,
Babytalk,
Whodini,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jawbox,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crime,
Suicide,
Andrew Hill,
New Order,
Donald Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Franke,
Can,
The Cure,
Y Pants,
La Düsseldorf,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rites of Spring,
R.M.O.,
Scion,
Nils Olav,
John Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
Cymande,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.