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 Chad and from Hong Kong.
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 Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Judy Mowatt,
Brothers Johnson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slackers,
New York Dolls,
Ronan,
Yusef Lateef,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DJ Style,
Minnie Riperton,
Althea and Donna,
Adolescents,
OOIOO,
Cecil Taylor,
Charles Mingus,
Nils Olav,
the Soft Cell,
Arcadia,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Josef K,
New Order,
Suicide,
Panda Bear,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bill Wells,
Crooked Eye,
The Pop Group,
JFA,
Nation of Ulysses,
Theoretical Girls,
Inner City,
Soul Sonic Force,
FM Einheit,
La Düsseldorf,
Neu!,
Arab on Radar,
Procol Harum,
Bill Near,
Idris Muhammad,
Pere Ubu,
Mandrill,
Ultravox,
Essential Logic,
Joe Finger,
Barry Ungar,
MC5,
The Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Bananas,
Audionom,
Mad Mike,
Amazonics,
Newcleus,
Erasure,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.