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 Yemen and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Connie Case,
Yellowson,
Marine Girls,
Pantaleimon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Theoretical Girls,
The Misunderstood,
The Martian,
The Happenings,
MDC,
Matthew Halsall,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Vogues,
The Red Krayola,
JFA,
B.T. Express,
Traffic Nightmare,
Swans,
Faust,
MC5,
Man Eating Sloth,
K-Klass,
Sonic Youth,
Marc Almond,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Patti Smith,
Isaac Hayes,
The Velvet Underground,
Masters at Work,
Peter and Kerry,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Rites of Spring,
Goldenarms,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Birthday Party,
Derrick Morgan,
Brick,
Andrew Hill,
Byron Stingily,
Smog,
The Young Rascals,
Curtis Mayfield,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobby Womack,
Unrelated Segments,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Flag,
One Last Wish,
Severed Heads,
Quadrant,
Grey Daturas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Max Romeo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Letta Mbulu,
Rotary Connection,
Circle Jerks,
The Raincoats,
John Foxx,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.