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 Guatemala and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Joey Negro to the grime 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Sparks,
MDC,
cv313,
The Misunderstood,
Public Enemy,
Tubeway Army,
The Cramps,
Quadrant,
Max Romeo,
Grauzone,
Steve Hackett,
Audionom,
Kayak,
the Soft Cell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eddi Front,
The Gun Club,
Suburban Knight,
CMW,
The Searchers,
Outsiders,
Los Fastidios,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
L. Decosne,
Ultra Naté,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ultimate Spinach,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bill Wells,
Babytalk,
Surgeon,
The Litter,
Smog,
Young Marble Giants,
Jerry's Kids,
the Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Dead C,
Chris & Cosey,
Ken Boothe,
Sonic Youth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sound Behaviour,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Starr,
Soul Sonic Force,
Silicon Teens,
John Foxx,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blake Baxter,
LL Cool J,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Oneida,
Royal Trux,
Faust,
Severed Heads,
The Moody Blues,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Urselle,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.