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 Antigua and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Negative Approach to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy 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?
Trumans Water,
Mr. Review,
Rekid,
Susan Cadogan,
Peter and Kerry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Quantec,
The Sonics,
The Fall,
Pere Ubu,
Pulsallama,
Theoretical Girls,
Michelle Simonal,
Silicon Teens,
Laurel Aitken,
Isaac Hayes,
Ossler,
Matthew Bourne,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stiv Bators,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mantronix,
ABBA,
Max Romeo,
Agent Orange,
Ken Boothe,
Kas Product,
E-Dancer,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nils Olav,
Make Up,
Jawbox,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Teasers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Christie,
Jeru the Damaja,
48th St. Collective,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Supertramp,
Subhumans,
The Five Americans,
Thompson Twins,
Sällskapet,
Siglo XX,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Yazoo,
The Techniques,
Oneida,
Avey Tare,
Clear Light,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.