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 Luxembourg and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Clear Light to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Ludus,
The Velvet Underground,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Wyatt,
Mandrill,
Fear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Shoche,
Jandek,
Colin Newman,
Banda Bassotti,
Au Pairs,
The Motions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ronnie Foster,
Young Marble Giants,
Mad Mike,
The Angels of Light,
Maurizio,
World's Most,
Pierre Henry,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chris & Cosey,
Wolf Eyes,
DJ Style,
Porter Ricks,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy Collins,
Can,
Bill Near,
Harry Pussy,
Soft Cell,
L. Decosne,
Visage,
Black Flag,
Eve St. Jones,
Minny Pops,
The Slackers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Von Mondo,
Warsaw,
The Human League,
Camouflage,
The Wake,
Gang of Four,
Rhythm & Sound,
Quadrant,
Delta 5,
Trumans Water,
The United States of America,
Byron Stingily,
The Last Poets,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mo-Dettes,
Tres Demented,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alice Coltrane,
the Swans,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.