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 United Kingdom and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba 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 Young Marble Giants to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Soft Machine,
Scientists,
The Velvet Underground,
F. McDonald,
Kurtis Blow,
Black Moon,
B.T. Express,
Popol Vuh,
Public Enemy,
Malaria!,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
T. Rex,
10cc,
Jawbox,
Country Teasers,
Urselle,
Deadbeat,
Wings,
Eric B and Rakim,
Deakin,
Eric Dolphy,
Hardrive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Litter,
Livin' Joy,
Siglo XX,
Little Man,
Yaz,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Donny Hathaway,
Rapeman,
Grauzone,
Main Source,
Spoonie Gee,
The Neon Judgement,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drexciya,
World's Most,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Foxx,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Swans,
Loose Ends,
Nils Olav,
Eden Ahbez,
Pussy Galore,
Television Personalities,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Shoche,
The Birthday Party,
Easy Going,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gladiators,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Girls At Our Best!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.