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 Eritrea and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Skriet to the crunk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix 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?
Sex Pistols,
Pet Shop Boys,
T. Rex,
John Lydon,
June of 44,
Bill Near,
Bobby Sherman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
June Days,
Basic Channel,
Visage,
Hot Snakes,
Juan Atkins,
Sugar Minott,
The Slits,
Josef K,
Cybotron,
Livin' Joy,
Underground Resistance,
Warren Ellis,
the Normal,
The Standells,
Jacob Miller,
B.T. Express,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Agent Orange,
Connie Case,
Man Eating Sloth,
Animal Collective,
F. McDonald,
Robert Görl,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fortunes,
Blancmange,
The Fugs,
Marine Girls,
The Golliwogs,
Fat Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
John Holt,
UT,
Soul II Soul,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
New Order,
Bluetip,
The Sonics,
The Fall,
Nation of Ulysses,
Delon & Dalcan,
The American Breed,
Vainqueur,
Altered Images,
Liliput,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lucky Dragons,
Lalo Schifrin,
Derrick May,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.