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 Ethiopia and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Hot Snakes to the grime 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Au Pairs,
Altered Images,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Intrusion,
Aural Exciters,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Wells,
Jerry's Kids,
Nils Olav,
Crooked Eye,
Q and Not U,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Buckinghams,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Trojans,
Laurel Aitken,
Erykah Badu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Peter and Kerry,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Almond,
FM Einheit,
The Music Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Reuben Wilson,
Popol Vuh,
Fela Kuti,
Excepter,
Terry Callier,
Wally Richardson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hoover,
Toni Rubio,
Sister Nancy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Selecter,
Piero Umiliani,
Gang Green,
Lungfish,
The Tremeloes,
Easy Going,
The Saints,
Sonic Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Henry Cow,
Andrew Hill,
The Slackers,
Camberwell Now,
Erasure,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Aaron Thompson,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Raincoats,
cv313,
Masters at Work,
Ronan,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.