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 Azerbaijan and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Sexual Harrassment to the dance 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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Ornette Coleman,
Chris & Cosey,
Youth Brigade,
Yellowson,
Nils Olav,
Anakelly,
X-102,
Fat Boys,
Brass Construction,
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
Technova,
Das Ding,
Ponytail,
Bill Wells,
Procol Harum,
New York Dolls,
Warsaw,
Rhythm & Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
The Techniques,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Magazine,
The Fire Engines,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marmalade,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Star Department,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
Von Mondo,
Nik Kershaw,
Rotary Connection,
The Index,
The Music Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Rosa Yemen,
Pet Shop Boys,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Smog,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Birthday Party,
Sällskapet,
Vainqueur,
Severed Heads,
The New Christs,
Suburban Knight,
The Neon Judgement,
Lightning Bolt,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Los Fastidios,
Nico,
Mo-Dettes,
Half Japanese,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
8 Eyed Spy,
cv313,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.