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 Grenada and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord 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 Amazonics to the dance 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Robert Hood,
Cluster,
The Blackbyrds,
Lucky Dragons,
The Human League,
Slick Rick,
Sex Pistols,
KRS-One,
The Fortunes,
DNA,
the Soft Cell,
Lower 48,
Joe Smooth,
Joey Negro,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
Arthur Verocai,
Malaria!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magazine,
Derrick Morgan,
Funky Four + One,
Minny Pops,
Parry Music,
Scientists,
The Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Pus,
FM Einheit,
Wally Richardson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bill Wells,
Ohio Players,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Basic Channel,
Wings,
Drexciya,
Spandau Ballet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Duran Duran,
Eve St. Jones,
Erykah Badu,
The Monks,
Au Pairs,
The Five Americans,
Intrusion,
Minnie Riperton,
Wolf Eyes,
Boogie Down Productions,
AZ,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Altered Images,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.