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 Kuwait and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Lou Reed 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 Busters to the rap 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ralphi Rosario,
Frankie Knuckles,
Warsaw,
Ituana,
The Cure,
Boredoms,
Matthew Bourne,
Ludus,
Silicon Teens,
Bill Near,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Sherman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Isaac Hayes,
Juan Atkins,
Fear,
Marine Girls,
Section 25,
Whodini,
Dawn Penn,
Bauhaus,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
A Certain Ratio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
10cc,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sugar Minott,
Wire,
New Order,
Altered Images,
Patti Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ossler,
Liliput,
Radiohead,
June of 44,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cramps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tres Demented,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rosa Yemen,
Basic Channel,
Underground Resistance,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Skriet,
AZ,
The Durutti Column,
Eric B and Rakim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Flag,
Ornette Coleman,
Howard Jones,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.