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 Ireland and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ 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 Country Teasers to the funk 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Bananas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Dawn Penn,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Icehouse,
Pere Ubu,
Sight & Sound,
Tomorrow,
Q and Not U,
Matthew Halsall,
Kaleidoscope,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eve St. Jones,
Minnie Riperton,
Tubeway Army,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barry Ungar,
Saccharine Trust,
Dead Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Faust,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mummies,
The Sonics,
Sonic Youth,
Grauzone,
Whodini,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Near,
James White and The Blacks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rosa Yemen,
The Black Dice,
Monks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wasted Youth,
H. Thieme,
Barbara Tucker,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slick Rick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sandy B,
Stockholm Monsters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Buzzcocks,
Black Moon,
Neil Young,
Alton Ellis,
New Age Steppers,
Basic Channel,
The Durutti Column,
Anthony Braxton,
The Dirtbombs,
The Saints,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.