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 Vanuatu and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 World's Most to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
The Gladiators,
Faraquet,
The Gories,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pagans,
John Cale,
Yaz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang of Four,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bill Wells,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Real Kids,
Kenny Larkin,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Animal Collective,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Seeds,
Sällskapet,
T. Rex,
Ludus,
Vainqueur,
Iggy Pop,
Fugazi,
Yazoo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eric Copeland,
The Standells,
Rhythm & Sound,
Khruangbin,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
B.T. Express,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pantytec,
Brick,
X-Ray Spex,
Liliput,
Frankie Knuckles,
New Age Steppers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Charles Mingus,
Mandrill,
Pylon,
Freddie Wadling,
Livin' Joy,
Stockholm Monsters,
JFA,
Television,
The Blackbyrds,
Babytalk,
The Trojans,
Little Man,
the Swans,
Jacques Brel,
Marmalade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cal Tjader,
Unrelated Segments,
Nik Kershaw,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.