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 Nigeria and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Man Parrish to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Godley & Creme,
The Residents,
Black Pus,
Deadbeat,
Camouflage,
Quantec,
Amon Düül,
The Offenders,
The Slackers,
Yaz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Glenn Branca,
Eric Dolphy,
Camberwell Now,
Section 25,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang On A Can,
The Smoke,
Little Man,
Angry Samoans,
Amon Düül II,
Laurel Aitken,
David McCallum,
Whodini,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
Moss Icon,
Black Sheep,
The Motions,
Bronski Beat,
Livin' Joy,
Fela Kuti,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jawbox,
The Dead C,
Circle Jerks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lalann,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Skatalites,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Neon Judgement,
Colin Newman,
The Standells,
Rapeman,
Roxette,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dennis Brown,
PIL,
Stetsasonic,
Silicon Teens,
The Blackbyrds,
Darondo,
Goldenarms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.