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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Derrick May to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Talk Talk,
Terrestrial Tones,
Angry Samoans,
Babytalk,
Slave,
Drexciya,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pierre Henry,
The Gories,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Charles Mingus,
Aural Exciters,
Eve St. Jones,
X-101,
Das Ding,
Depeche Mode,
Wolf Eyes,
Boz Scaggs,
Henry Cow,
Sight & Sound,
Agent Orange,
Yellowson,
John Cale,
Funky Four + One,
Duran Duran,
Andrew Hill,
Dead Boys,
The Happenings,
The Moody Blues,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Camberwell Now,
Half Japanese,
Minor Threat,
U.S. Maple,
Visage,
The Litter,
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Move,
The Gladiators,
Camouflage,
AZ,
La Düsseldorf,
Bauhaus,
DNA,
The Leaves,
Mad Mike,
Brass Construction,
World's Most,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Khruangbin,
Altered Images,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Y Pants,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.