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 El Salvador and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 Pussy Galore to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
MDC,
Darondo,
Arcadia,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wolf Eyes,
Interpol,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sonics,
Lalann,
T. Rex,
Chris & Cosey,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Skriet,
Lakeside,
The Names,
Rod Modell,
Shoche,
Yazoo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang Green,
The Gories,
the Slits,
Audionom,
Goldenarms,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeff Lynne,
The Electric Prunes,
Banda Bassotti,
Scrapy,
Aural Exciters,
Lyres,
Mr. Review,
the Normal,
Slave,
Graham Central Station,
A Flock of Seagulls,
This Heat,
Sun City Girls,
The Sound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Slackers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Liliput,
Dawn Penn,
Ponytail,
F. McDonald,
Pet Shop Boys,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Ohio Players,
Kenny Larkin,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.