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 Armenia and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Wells to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
The Young Rascals,
The Monks,
The Busters,
Boredoms,
Electric Light Orchestra,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
Surgeon,
Bobby Sherman,
Country Teasers,
D'Angelo,
10cc,
the Soft Cell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hasil Adkins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Negative Approach,
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
The Beau Brummels,
Tommy Roe,
the Germs,
The Victims,
Alphaville,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Invisible,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jacob Miller,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suicide,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Subhumans,
Moby Grape,
Kenny Larkin,
The Offenders,
Second Layer,
New Age Steppers,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
Infiniti,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
June Days,
Bauhaus,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Excepter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Los Fastidios,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Essential Logic,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.