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 Belize and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Crispian St. Peters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Jacques Brel,
John Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crooked Eye,
Talk Talk,
Idris Muhammad,
Roger Hodgson,
Matthew Bourne,
ABBA,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scratch Acid,
Adolescents,
Mo-Dettes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Black Bananas,
Vladislav Delay,
Darondo,
Porter Ricks,
Letta Mbulu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin,
Mars,
The Moleskins,
CMW,
Leonard Cohen,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Tremeloes,
Marine Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Urselle,
Basic Channel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heaven 17,
Graham Central Station,
Metal Thangz,
Slick Rick,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fortunes,
Harry Pussy,
Lungfish,
Eve St. Jones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cal Tjader,
Sixth Finger,
Television Personalities,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aaron Thompson,
Marmalade,
Tom Boy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hot Snakes,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
D'Angelo,
New York Dolls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cymande,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.