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 San Marino and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Pussy Galore,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neil Young,
Banda Bassotti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alphaville,
Nirvana,
The Music Machine,
Tim Buckley,
David Axelrod,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Audionom,
Henry Cow,
Moss Icon,
Eden Ahbez,
Bronski Beat,
Second Layer,
Lakeside,
Jacques Brel,
Joy Division,
Thee Headcoats,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Durutti Column,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Index,
FM Einheit,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cure,
The Busters,
Chris Corsano,
Skaos,
Deepchord,
Y Pants,
Fear,
Jimmy McGriff,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Matthew Bourne,
Howard Jones,
Kenny Larkin,
Robert Wyatt,
Roger Hodgson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Agent Orange,
Pole,
Warren Ellis,
Janne Schatter,
the Association,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minor Threat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
Gang of Four,
The Kinks,
Lightning Bolt,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.