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 Maldives and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 Bauhaus to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Harmonia,
Minutemen,
The J.B.'s,
Howard Jones,
Smog,
The Blues Magoos,
One Last Wish,
The Dave Clark Five,
Idris Muhammad,
Television,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
Ronnie Foster,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Radio Birdman,
ABC,
The Buckinghams,
Albert Ayler,
Flipper,
Black Pus,
Funkadelic,
Eurythmics,
The Fuzztones,
Heaven 17,
A Certain Ratio,
Swell Maps,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marvin Gaye,
DJ Sneak,
Sparks,
Sister Nancy,
Intrusion,
Arab on Radar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scratch Acid,
Bronski Beat,
The Fugs,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Nick Fraelich,
The Shadows of Knight,
K-Klass,
Mo-Dettes,
Livin' Joy,
The Gories,
Godley & Creme,
the Swans,
the Slits,
Mad Mike,
Byron Stingily,
Qualms,
Lucky Dragons,
Roxette,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eve St. Jones,
The Victims,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.