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 St Lucia and from Mexico City.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 marimba 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 New York Dolls to the jazz 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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marine Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang Green,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sound Behaviour,
Slick Rick,
Minor Threat,
Tubeway Army,
Chris & Cosey,
Symarip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Swans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yellowson,
Japan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mandrill,
Desert Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Inner City,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kerri Chandler,
K-Klass,
Blake Baxter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Todd Rundgren,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Bananas,
Rapeman,
The Birthday Party,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Shoche,
Malaria!,
Mo-Dettes,
Little Man,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
OOIOO,
Fear,
The Red Krayola,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eli Mardock,
the Association,
Sarah Menescal,
Babytalk,
Toni Rubio,
Connie Case,
Dead Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Boredoms,
Gang of Four,
Tim Buckley,
Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon.
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.