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 Namibia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 F. McDonald to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crash Course in Science,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Womack,
Wire,
Second Layer,
Harry Pussy,
Drexciya,
The Angels of Light,
Mo-Dettes,
The Durutti Column,
Carl Craig,
John Cale,
Rod Modell,
Iggy Pop,
Agent Orange,
New York Dolls,
Section 25,
Joey Negro,
Bush Tetras,
The Gories,
Qualms,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lee Hazlewood,
Circle Jerks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Newcleus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Angry Samoans,
Radiohead,
The Victims,
a-ha,
Vladislav Delay,
Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
Thee Headcoats,
Nas,
The Golliwogs,
The Young Rascals,
Janne Schatter,
Slick Rick,
The Gladiators,
Wings,
Dead Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
Tres Demented,
Minor Threat,
Black Flag,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moss Icon,
Hashim,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Y Pants,
John Foxx,
Masters at Work,
Crispian St. Peters,
Zapp,
La Düsseldorf,
Vainqueur,
Skriet,
Quadrant,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.