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 Grenada and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 theremin 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 Dead Boys to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Pretty Things,
ABC,
Ludus,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric Copeland,
Sly & The Family Stone,
China Crisis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Groovy Waters,
Television,
Hot Snakes,
Television Personalities,
Deadbeat,
X-Ray Spex,
The Star Department,
Lungfish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brothers Johnson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eurythmics,
Schoolly D,
Camberwell Now,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mr. Review,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Hood,
Monks,
Newcleus,
The Cure,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Busters,
Das Ding,
Peter & Gordon,
Inner City,
Jeff Mills,
EPMD,
Eli Mardock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Fraelich,
Panda Bear,
Electric Light Orchestra,
CMW,
Banda Bassotti,
Letta Mbulu,
Metal Thangz,
The Offenders,
Amazonics,
The Dave Clark Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.