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 South Sudan and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Stiv Bators to the punk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
The Sonics,
June Days,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pet Shop Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Barrington Levy,
Quando Quango,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Görl,
Dual Sessions,
Black Pus,
Robert Wyatt,
kango's stein massive,
Stiv Bators,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kevin Saunderson,
Negative Approach,
Scientists,
Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Eurythmics,
Dead Boys,
Fela Kuti,
China Crisis,
Agitation Free,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Sherman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Erasure,
Hoover,
Yazoo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Gladiators,
Underground Resistance,
Das Ding,
Crispian St. Peters,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Toasters,
Pussy Galore,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Evens,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Loose Ends,
Henry Cow,
The Fire Engines,
Faust,
Harry Pussy,
Bang On A Can,
Stereo Dub,
Lucky Dragons,
The Searchers,
Altered Images,
Jandek,
Radiohead,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.