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 Mali and from Hong Kong.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the electroclash 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ronan,
Terry Callier,
Intrusion,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Wire,
John Foxx,
The Monochrome Set,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharoah Sanders,
F. McDonald,
Khruangbin,
Yusef Lateef,
Duran Duran,
Brass Construction,
The Evens,
Rekid,
The Barracudas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roy Ayers,
Glenn Branca,
Blancmange,
Blossom Toes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Section 25,
Darondo,
Goldenarms,
Marine Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Silicon Teens,
Audionom,
The Electric Prunes,
Godley & Creme,
the Germs,
The Cowsills,
The Smiths,
The Busters,
Pole,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moss Icon,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
MC5,
Arcadia,
The American Breed,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Slackers,
Scan 7,
Junior Murvin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Slave,
This Heat,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Max Romeo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Anthony Braxton,
Pulsallama,
Bill Near,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.