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 Palau and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
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 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 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 Bush Tetras to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Oblivians,
Glenn Branca,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
The Kinks,
Letta Mbulu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nation of Ulysses,
Swans,
World's Most,
the Normal,
Icehouse,
Porter Ricks,
Radio Birdman,
Amon Düül,
Barbara Tucker,
Banda Bassotti,
Groovy Waters,
Thee Headcoats,
Kas Product,
Faust,
X-102,
PIL,
UT,
The Moleskins,
Sandy B,
Amon Düül II,
Todd Rundgren,
Von Mondo,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Green,
Gregory Isaacs,
New York Dolls,
10cc,
Mantronix,
Matthew Bourne,
Sight & Sound,
Bootsy Collins,
Saccharine Trust,
Swell Maps,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Ossler,
The Detroit Cobras,
Second Layer,
Sex Pistols,
The Gladiators,
Funky Four + One,
The Victims,
Mars,
The Fugs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mark Hollis,
JFA,
Michelle Simonal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scott Walker,
Howard Jones,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.