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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Subhumans to the punk 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Metal Thangz,
June Days,
Moby Grape,
Archie Shepp,
The Gun Club,
Nas,
Icehouse,
Harmonia,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gories,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sex Pistols,
the Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Lakeside,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Byron Stingily,
The Slackers,
Television Personalities,
The Smiths,
Make Up,
Panda Bear,
Bootsy Collins,
Nation of Ulysses,
Popol Vuh,
David Axelrod,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tomorrow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wasted Youth,
Massinfluence,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Leaves,
Gang Green,
Sparks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Minor Threat,
MC5,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Y Pants,
Pet Shop Boys,
Nick Fraelich,
Infiniti,
The Real Kids,
Davy DMX,
The Offenders,
Grauzone,
Masters at Work,
Sandy B,
These Immortal Souls,
Sister Nancy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Easy Going,
Alton Ellis,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.