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 East Timor and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer 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 Marmalade to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Malaria!,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Red Krayola,
Kerri Chandler,
Delta 5,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
K-Klass,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glenn Branca,
Deadbeat,
Lyres,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blancmange,
Ten City,
The Cramps,
X-102,
John Coltrane,
Gichy Dan,
The Real Kids,
Scion,
Youth Brigade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Moody Blues,
Masters at Work,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pet Shop Boys,
Interpol,
Harry Pussy,
OOIOO,
Moebius,
Warren Ellis,
Aswad,
The Dirtbombs,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Golliwogs,
Khruangbin,
FM Einheit,
June of 44,
The Mojo Men,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Bananas,
Sex Pistols,
Tim Buckley,
The Divine Comedy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pussy Galore,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eve St. Jones,
Ossler,
MC5,
Eli Mardock,
the Soft Cell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Blues Magoos,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Outsiders,
Steve Hackett,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.