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 Peru and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sexual Harrassment to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Mantronix,
Trumans Water,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Gap Band,
Yaz,
The Golliwogs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rosa Yemen,
Jeff Lynne,
Q and Not U,
The Residents,
Albert Ayler,
Pussy Galore,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Johnny Osbourne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sällskapet,
Hot Snakes,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Wake,
Sixth Finger,
Eve St. Jones,
Technova,
Guru Guru,
The Associates,
Black Sheep,
Rekid,
Jacob Miller,
The Misunderstood,
Heaven 17,
Thompson Twins,
Bill Near,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Tremeloes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dark Day,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Grauzone,
Grandmaster Flash,
Theoretical Girls,
Japan,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K,
Isaac Hayes,
Spandau Ballet,
Oblivians,
Sound Behaviour,
Pharoah Sanders,
La Düsseldorf,
Barrington Levy,
AZ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nas,
Fatback Band,
The Seeds,
David Bowie,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.