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 Austria and from Lyon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Last Poets to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fall,
Clear Light,
Porter Ricks,
Boredoms,
Ice-T,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Real Kids,
Dave Gahan,
Big Daddy Kane,
B.T. Express,
Hot Snakes,
Radiopuhelimet,
H. Thieme,
F. McDonald,
the Germs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Ossler,
Scan 7,
Magazine,
Ituana,
Unwound,
Vainqueur,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Sherman,
Derrick May,
Peter and Kerry,
Supertramp,
Qualms,
La Düsseldorf,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Heaven 17,
Dual Sessions,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Circle Jerks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
New York Dolls,
Nick Fraelich,
Cluster,
Aswad,
Tim Buckley,
Crime,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
cv313,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Saints,
The Misunderstood,
Reuben Wilson,
Morten Harket,
Crash Course in Science,
David Bowie,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.