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 Belarus and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb 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 Marc Almond to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Skaos,
Crime,
The Music Machine,
Stereo Dub,
Spandau Ballet,
Black Bananas,
Harmonia,
Los Fastidios,
Scrapy,
This Heat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Q and Not U,
Terry Callier,
Thee Headcoats,
The Black Dice,
Index,
Danielle Patucci,
Eve St. Jones,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Juan Atkins,
Fatback Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minor Threat,
Jandek,
Lalann,
Barry Ungar,
The Victims,
The Beau Brummels,
The Last Poets,
Albert Ayler,
Steve Hackett,
Drexciya,
Gichy Dan,
Aloha Tigers,
Quando Quango,
Cybotron,
Anakelly,
Interpol,
Eli Mardock,
These Immortal Souls,
Dark Day,
Make Up,
Maleditus Sound,
The Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
H. Thieme,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smiths,
The Skatalites,
Letta Mbulu,
Theoretical Girls,
Section 25,
Barbara Tucker,
Scan 7,
Archie Shepp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Suburban Knight,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Brothers Johnson,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.