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 Kenya and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Swans to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Gun Club,
The Litter,
T.S.O.L.,
Donald Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
The Beau Brummels,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Swans,
Symarip,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Don Cherry,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sonics,
Technova,
Model 500,
Flipper,
Sixth Finger,
Swans,
Japan,
Alphaville,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Youth Brigade,
Second Layer,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Birthday Party,
R.M.O.,
Arab on Radar,
Desert Stars,
Lungfish,
Lucky Dragons,
Intrusion,
CMW,
Animal Collective,
Laurel Aitken,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Archie Shepp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lalann,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Busters,
the Bar-Kays,
Camouflage,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Sheep,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Khruangbin,
Gabor Szabo,
Minor Threat,
Inner City,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terry Callier,
Altered Images,
Robert Görl,
David Bowie,
Isaac Hayes,
Television Personalities,
Eric Copeland,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.