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 Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rap 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Fear,
Interpol,
Davy DMX,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Morten Harket,
Can,
Marc Almond,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Das Ding,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sam Rivers,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Barracudas,
Underground Resistance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fela Kuti,
Black Bananas,
Altered Images,
The Toasters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nik Kershaw,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
Ronan,
Pere Ubu,
Pylon,
Dave Gahan,
Monks,
Aloha Tigers,
Alice Coltrane,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bad Manners,
Barbara Tucker,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Slick Rick,
Bang On A Can,
The New Christs,
Rites of Spring,
Goldenarms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Funky Four + One,
Parry Music,
Anakelly,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Neon Judgement,
Donny Hathaway,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Robert Hood,
OOIOO,
Isaac Hayes,
Icehouse,
Marine Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Tears for Fears,
Bob Dylan,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.