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 Serbia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Traffic Nightmare to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Suburban Knight,
Aaron Thompson,
China Crisis,
Josef K,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marcia Griffiths,
Yusef Lateef,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Avey Tare,
The Toasters,
Wire,
The Cramps,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Hasil Adkins,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
10cc,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Quadrant,
Beasts of Bourbon,
F. McDonald,
Nas,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Fraelich,
Henry Cow,
Duran Duran,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scott Walker,
Rod Modell,
Joyce Sims,
Crime,
kango's stein massive,
Nils Olav,
The Zeros,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
The Doors,
The Cowsills,
The Trojans,
Oblivians,
Skarface,
Soft Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
Iggy Pop,
The Sonics,
H. Thieme,
Infiniti,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Crash Course in Science,
Absolute Body Control,
Electric Prunes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
OOIOO,
Soul Sonic Force,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultravox,
Ultra Naté,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.