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 India and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
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 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 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 The Smiths to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine 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 guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Janne Schatter,
June Days,
The Detroit Cobras,
cv313,
The Barracudas,
Intrusion,
One Last Wish,
Yellowson,
Scan 7,
Yusef Lateef,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Y Pants,
Wire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Albert Ayler,
Mo-Dettes,
Delta 5,
Q and Not U,
Barry Ungar,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Dave Gahan,
Thompson Twins,
Dennis Brown,
Vainqueur,
the Bar-Kays,
Subhumans,
Duran Duran,
Chris Corsano,
Thee Headcoats,
Ultra Naté,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronan,
Warsaw,
Accadde A,
Talk Talk,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Youth Brigade,
Brand Nubian,
Moby Grape,
Circle Jerks,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Jerry's Kids,
The Raincoats,
Darondo,
Arab on Radar,
The Young Rascals,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Patti Smith,
The Star Department,
Nico,
Essential Logic,
These Immortal Souls,
Zapp,
Sällskapet,
Sandy B,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.