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 Lebanon and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Glenn Branca to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Man Parrish,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jawbox,
Lou Christie,
Nils Olav,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marine Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Procol Harum,
Johnny Osbourne,
Anakelly,
Mad Mike,
Monolake,
Joyce Sims,
Roxy Music,
Reagan Youth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Technova,
Q65,
Pussy Galore,
The Real Kids,
Archie Shepp,
Barrington Levy,
Massinfluence,
cv313,
Mandrill,
Grauzone,
Magma,
Kenny Larkin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fatback Band,
Crooked Eye,
Laurel Aitken,
Television Personalities,
The Dirtbombs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pylon,
The Black Dice,
Wire,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Certain Ratio,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Nico,
Gang of Four,
This Heat,
Maurizio,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Misunderstood,
In Retrospect,
Brand Nubian,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Lydon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Circle Jerks,
Mission of Burma,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Saints,
Ultra Naté,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.