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 Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Black Pus to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Sun City Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gang Green,
Blancmange,
Jawbox,
The Gap Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
China Crisis,
Porter Ricks,
Outsiders,
The Techniques,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Hasil Adkins,
Funky Four + One,
Public Image Ltd.,
Masters at Work,
Yazoo,
Trumans Water,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arcadia,
John Lydon,
Lou Christie,
Absolute Body Control,
Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monochrome Set,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
David McCallum,
Chris & Cosey,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Lynne,
Brothers Johnson,
The Angels of Light,
kango's stein massive,
One Last Wish,
Shuggie Otis,
Lucky Dragons,
Liliput,
Youth Brigade,
Talk Talk,
New York Dolls,
Lightning Bolt,
The Velvet Underground,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pantaleimon,
Kerri Chandler,
Lebanon Hanover,
Skarface,
Pantytec,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Glenn Branca,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
B.T. Express,
Supertramp,
Zero Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.