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 Portugal and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pussy Galore to the techno 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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Model 500,
Aaron Thompson,
Scan 7,
Oneida,
Deepchord,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Thee Headcoats,
Roy Ayers,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Doors,
Fear,
the Germs,
Gabor Szabo,
Faust,
Los Fastidios,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jawbox,
Crooked Eye,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kaleidoscope,
Bill Near,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kayak,
The Fugs,
The Names,
Stiv Bators,
Masters at Work,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Clear Light,
Ralphi Rosario,
FM Einheit,
Ultra Naté,
Cluster,
Pagans,
Tomorrow,
The Evens,
Soulsonic Force,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
The Blues Magoos,
T. Rex,
Connie Case,
Tropical Tobacco,
Slick Rick,
Kerrie Biddell,
The New Christs,
Rosa Yemen,
Alison Limerick,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spandau Ballet,
Depeche Mode,
Jerry's Kids,
Pylon,
Pere Ubu,
Y Pants,
Public Enemy,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.