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 Niger and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare 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 Angry Samoans to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Harry Pussy,
June Days,
Grey Daturas,
John Foxx,
Freddie Wadling,
Radiohead,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fear,
Wally Richardson,
The American Breed,
Circle Jerks,
Arthur Verocai,
Ituana,
MDC,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cybotron,
PIL,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Modern Lovers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sister Nancy,
Eric Dolphy,
Pussy Galore,
The Doors,
Davy DMX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Skatalites,
Cecil Taylor,
Chrome,
The Fortunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sparks,
Babytalk,
Erykah Badu,
Oneida,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Stereo Dub,
The Busters,
Talk Talk,
Youth Brigade,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Womack,
The Gladiators,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tears for Fears,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Unrelated Segments,
Scott Walker,
Sandy B,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amazonics,
Marmalade,
Idris Muhammad,
Public Enemy,
Jeff Mills,
Johnny Clarke,
The Pretty Things,
Lou Christie,
Sun City Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.