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 Venezuela and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 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 World's Most to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash,
John Foxx,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
cv313,
Bluetip,
Marc Almond,
Section 25,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sonny Sharrock,
The Victims,
Boz Scaggs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sixth Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
Babytalk,
Matthew Bourne,
Quando Quango,
Circle Jerks,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
the Human League,
Flamin' Groovies,
Livin' Joy,
Aural Exciters,
Das Ding,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
Pulsallama,
Mission of Burma,
One Last Wish,
Curtis Mayfield,
Chris & Cosey,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Vladislav Delay,
Crime,
Q and Not U,
Soft Machine,
Pole,
Johnny Clarke,
The New Christs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Litter,
New Order,
The Busters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rosa Yemen,
The Evens,
The Skatalites,
Hasil Adkins,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Ultimate Spinach,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arab on Radar,
Maurizio,
Country Teasers,
Deadbeat,
Scientists,
Anakelly,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.