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 Spain and from New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gun Club to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Massinfluence,
Stereo Dub,
Buzzcocks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Althea and Donna,
the Bar-Kays,
The Evens,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sex Pistols,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Severed Heads,
Nils Olav,
Yusef Lateef,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Negative Approach,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Womack,
Scientists,
Eric Copeland,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Outsiders,
David Bowie,
Hasil Adkins,
Grey Daturas,
The Star Department,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
John Foxx,
Radiohead,
Q and Not U,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Black Dice,
The Gladiators,
Glenn Branca,
Sonny Sharrock,
FM Einheit,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eddi Front,
Soft Machine,
Black Bananas,
Robert Wyatt,
Pole,
Theoretical Girls,
Organ,
Sparks,
The Residents,
Lucky Dragons,
a-ha,
Quantec,
Section 25,
The Index,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Darondo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Aloha Tigers,
Heaven 17,
Todd Rundgren,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.