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 Sierra Leone and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 New Order to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Black Pus,
Mission of Burma,
The Five Americans,
Dark Day,
Procol Harum,
Laurel Aitken,
The Smiths,
Bootsy Collins,
The Golliwogs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Agent Orange,
The Neon Judgement,
48th St. Collective,
Scan 7,
Joy Division,
Radiohead,
10cc,
Suicide,
Nirvana,
Neil Young,
Black Sheep,
One Last Wish,
Henry Cow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kevin Saunderson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
Monolake,
Monks,
Gang Starr,
Eden Ahbez,
Tears for Fears,
the Bar-Kays,
Marc Almond,
Matthew Halsall,
Erasure,
The Electric Prunes,
Morten Harket,
Fear,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fugs,
Blancmange,
The Motions,
Chrome,
Dead Boys,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bluetip,
Unwound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
Derrick May,
Brick,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalann,
Goldenarms,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.