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 Estonia and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 electroclash 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ohio Players,
Warren Ellis,
Bluetip,
Tres Demented,
Skarface,
Crispy Ambulance,
Derrick May,
Freddie Wadling,
The Offenders,
Moby Grape,
Tubeway Army,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Alison Limerick,
Joyce Sims,
The Dead C,
Thompson Twins,
Eli Mardock,
Pylon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Cramps,
Unwound,
Outsiders,
The American Breed,
Average White Band,
Althea and Donna,
New Age Steppers,
Anakelly,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Machine,
Agitation Free,
Goldenarms,
China Crisis,
Animal Collective,
The Mummies,
Ituana,
Wasted Youth,
Darondo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Frankie Knuckles,
Arthur Verocai,
the Swans,
Kayak,
Liliput,
Roy Ayers,
Clear Light,
The Trojans,
Brothers Johnson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Altered Images,
Rod Modell,
The Busters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
a-ha,
Avey Tare,
Blancmange,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.