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 Singapore and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 808 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 Rapeman to the electroclash 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
The Human League,
James White and The Blacks,
U.S. Maple,
X-Ray Spex,
Ponytail,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
CMW,
Depeche Mode,
The Doors,
Glenn Branca,
Darondo,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
Eden Ahbez,
L. Decosne,
The Music Machine,
The Slackers,
The Cowsills,
The Zeros,
Radiopuhelimet,
kango's stein massive,
The Evens,
Crooked Eye,
Anakelly,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Electric Prunes,
Unwound,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker,
Hashim,
Scion,
Stetsasonic,
Japan,
Minutemen,
In Retrospect,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Misunderstood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Clear Light,
The Electric Prunes,
the Sonics,
The Smiths,
Matthew Bourne,
Max Romeo,
Symarip,
Smog,
X-101,
Vladislav Delay,
Ronan,
Goldenarms,
Shoche,
Groovy Waters,
Alison Limerick,
Masters at Work,
LL Cool J,
Nirvana,
Barrington Levy,
AZ,
Buzzcocks,
A Certain Ratio,
Roy Ayers,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.