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 Vietnam 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Johnny Osbourne to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Nas,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Bill Wells,
a-ha,
The Cowsills,
Todd Rundgren,
John Coltrane,
Bill Near,
The Detroit Cobras,
Severed Heads,
The Count Five,
The Residents,
L. Decosne,
La Düsseldorf,
Iggy Pop,
Robert Görl,
Aural Exciters,
Ten City,
Hot Snakes,
Mark Hollis,
Magma,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Sparks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Patti Smith,
UT,
Nils Olav,
Shuggie Otis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Piero Umiliani,
Kenny Larkin,
Terry Callier,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tomorrow,
Infiniti,
Eddi Front,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Starr,
John Holt,
The Shadows of Knight,
Todd Terry,
Dave Gahan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Agitation Free,
Yusef Lateef,
Eden Ahbez,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Model 500,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minny Pops,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marc Almond,
cv313,
Supertramp,
Arab on Radar,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.