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 Costa Rica and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Monolake to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Warren Ellis,
Mary Jane Girls,
Judy Mowatt,
David Bowie,
Television Personalities,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Golliwogs,
Juan Atkins,
Metal Thangz,
The Dead C,
The Fugs,
Skarface,
Wolf Eyes,
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scion,
Ludus,
Matthew Halsall,
Massinfluence,
Gong,
Moby Grape,
Talk Talk,
The Moody Blues,
Duran Duran,
Cal Tjader,
The Litter,
The Cowsills,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Modern Lovers,
Eli Mardock,
Rod Modell,
Scan 7,
Index,
Fat Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Surgeon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Steve Hackett,
Public Image Ltd.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dennis Brown,
Harry Pussy,
Marc Almond,
Suicide,
Model 500,
Scientists,
The Raincoats,
This Heat,
The Shadows of Knight,
Chris Corsano,
One Last Wish,
Fugazi,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alphaville,
Pantytec,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.