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 Latvia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 T.S.O.L. to the funk 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Girls At Our Best!,
Goldenarms,
Parry Music,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Wire,
Arcadia,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pylon,
Grey Daturas,
Deadbeat,
Cymande,
The Moody Blues,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
A Certain Ratio,
D'Angelo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ohio Players,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tomorrow,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
The Mojo Men,
Flash Fearless,
Rufus Thomas,
The Litter,
Freddie Wadling,
Erasure,
Eli Mardock,
The Fortunes,
Niagra,
Kerri Chandler,
The Blues Magoos,
Magazine,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moebius,
Althea and Donna,
The Fugs,
Index,
Khruangbin,
Dark Day,
Babytalk,
Glenn Branca,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jawbox,
Subhumans,
Fugazi,
Porter Ricks,
Interpol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Infiniti,
Bad Manners,
Fear,
Section 25,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Reuben Wilson,
Moby Grape,
a-ha,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.