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 Greece and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Clear Light,
ABC,
Roxy Music,
Deepchord,
Barry Ungar,
Arcadia,
Suburban Knight,
Excepter,
Tommy Roe,
The Slits,
Circle Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Velvet Underground,
Archie Shepp,
Suicide,
June of 44,
Funkadelic,
The Fuzztones,
The Slackers,
Godley & Creme,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
kango's stein massive,
The Buckinghams,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sun City Girls,
Warsaw,
Jacques Brel,
Cheater Slicks,
Schoolly D,
Drive Like Jehu,
Half Japanese,
Matthew Halsall,
The Birthday Party,
Deakin,
Pulsallama,
The New Christs,
Joy Division,
Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Henry Cow,
Trumans Water,
the Soft Cell,
Liliput,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cure,
Spandau Ballet,
Con Funk Shun,
Don Cherry,
Cal Tjader,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Moebius,
The Smiths,
Ornette Coleman,
Ponytail,
Saccharine Trust,
Bill Near,
Girls At Our Best!,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.