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 Vietnam and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Lakeside,
T.S.O.L.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Piero Umiliani,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amazonics,
EPMD,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Copeland,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Soft Cell,
Y Pants,
The Misunderstood,
Bill Near,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Aswad,
Josef K,
Bob Dylan,
Kaleidoscope,
The Barracudas,
Accadde A,
Zapp,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
Blossom Toes,
Rod Modell,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
ABC,
Joyce Sims,
The Offenders,
Kurtis Blow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Camouflage,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Byrd,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Techniques,
K-Klass,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
KRS-One,
Ultra Naté,
The Sonics,
The Trojans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Wake,
Slave,
Ultimate Spinach,
Duran Duran,
Chris Corsano,
Von Mondo,
The J.B.'s,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mummies,
Thee Headcoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roy Ayers,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.