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 Paraguay and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jesus and Mary Chain to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
Easy Going,
Jacob Miller,
John Holt,
Arcadia,
New York Dolls,
The Sonics,
Swell Maps,
Mars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Guru Guru,
Niagra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mr. Review,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Gladiators,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Busters,
Michelle Simonal,
Country Teasers,
Skriet,
Pantytec,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Can,
Dead Boys,
Black Bananas,
Iggy Pop,
The Birthday Party,
Technova,
Camouflage,
Theoretical Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Icehouse,
Liliput,
The Modern Lovers,
Popol Vuh,
The Tremeloes,
Fluxion,
Sarah Menescal,
Panda Bear,
Masters at Work,
Fugazi,
Judy Mowatt,
Quantec,
Jeff Mills,
Sparks,
Radio Birdman,
John Cale,
Stereo Dub,
Clear Light,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
The Evens,
Ultravox,
The Pop Group,
Carl Craig,
Shuggie Otis,
Essential Logic,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.