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 Iraq and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 chamberlin 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 John Holt to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Rod Modell,
The Angels of Light,
the Slits,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Busters,
Theoretical Girls,
Roxette,
James White and The Blacks,
kango's stein massive,
Danielle Patucci,
Delta 5,
Todd Rundgren,
Interpol,
Aural Exciters,
New Order,
The Smiths,
Gang of Four,
Cheater Slicks,
ABBA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jawbox,
Whodini,
Thee Headcoats,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Con Funk Shun,
Jeff Mills,
John Coltrane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Radiopuhelimet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Robert Wyatt,
Al Stewart,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DJ Sneak,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Star Department,
Crooked Eye,
Bill Wells,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Infiniti,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
UT,
Easy Going,
Procol Harum,
Yellowson,
Ludus,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jacques Brel,
Symarip,
The Red Krayola,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deepchord,
The Barracudas,
Scientists,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stiv Bators,
the Germs,
Reagan Youth,
The Move,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.