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 New Zealand and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 David Bowie to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dawn Penn,
Be Bop Deluxe,
EPMD,
The Pretty Things,
One Last Wish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Unwound,
Joy Division,
Neu!,
Radiohead,
Interpol,
Audionom,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Sonics,
Morten Harket,
Soft Cell,
Eden Ahbez,
The J.B.'s,
Aaron Thompson,
Wings,
Dead Boys,
Tom Boy,
Blossom Toes,
The Cramps,
Technova,
Suicide,
Y Pants,
Minnie Riperton,
Radio Birdman,
Max Romeo,
Television,
FM Einheit,
The Busters,
Bad Manners,
Michelle Simonal,
Absolute Body Control,
Marmalade,
Bauhaus,
Sarah Menescal,
The Blackbyrds,
Sam Rivers,
Sandy B,
Bill Wells,
Black Bananas,
Public Image Ltd.,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Mills,
Curtis Mayfield,
T. Rex,
Darondo,
Angry Samoans,
Sex Pistols,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rakim,
Ice-T,
Organ,
Slave,
Susan Cadogan,
Fatback Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.