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 Russia and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 The Golliwogs 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Joy Division,
Lebanon Hanover,
Minny Pops,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gladiators,
the Normal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Invisible,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mummies,
Mars,
Maleditus Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Hasil Adkins,
Television Personalities,
Circle Jerks,
Fela Kuti,
MDC,
Oblivians,
Symarip,
The Litter,
Cybotron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun City Girls,
Bootsy Collins,
Crash Course in Science,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cure,
Bobby Sherman,
Masters at Work,
Icehouse,
June Days,
Sugar Minott,
The Fall,
Franke,
Banda Bassotti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Golliwogs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Axelrod,
The Pretty Things,
Sarah Menescal,
Aural Exciters,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Motions,
Harpers Bizarre,
Charles Mingus,
Mantronix,
Ken Boothe,
Archie Shepp,
Rosa Yemen,
Sister Nancy,
Junior Murvin,
Jeff Mills,
Ralphi Rosario,
Urselle,
Von Mondo,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.