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 Bangladesh and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar 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 The Detroit Cobras to the grunge 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Ronan,
Lou Reed,
The Knickerbockers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nik Kershaw,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Names,
Mars,
the Human League,
John Cale,
Cheater Slicks,
The Fortunes,
Au Pairs,
Wire,
Ohio Players,
Infiniti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ice-T,
Loose Ends,
Theoretical Girls,
Supertramp,
Bluetip,
David McCallum,
Minor Threat,
Sonic Youth,
Carl Craig,
Qualms,
Pussy Galore,
Tubeway Army,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deadbeat,
Public Enemy,
Bronski Beat,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Starr,
The Raincoats,
Black Bananas,
Dave Gahan,
The Martian,
Bob Dylan,
Lyres,
Barrington Levy,
Lakeside,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wally Richardson,
48th St. Collective,
Kaleidoscope,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pulsallama,
Motorama,
Idris Muhammad,
Khruangbin,
Funkadelic,
A Certain Ratio,
The Remains,
DNA,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Monochrome Set,
Henry Cow,
The Pop Group,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.