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 Tonga and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Pop Group to the rap 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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Duran Duran,
The Durutti Column,
Prince Buster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Last Poets,
Schoolly D,
the Slits,
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna,
New Order,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tres Demented,
Ornette Coleman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Alphaville,
Sun Ra,
Surgeon,
The Busters,
The Gladiators,
the Association,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Archie Shepp,
Masters at Work,
Warsaw,
Aloha Tigers,
The Pop Group,
Eve St. Jones,
Franke,
Siglo XX,
the Swans,
The Doors,
Barry Ungar,
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül II,
Nas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rites of Spring,
Tom Boy,
Y Pants,
Tommy Roe,
The Trojans,
Fatback Band,
The Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Q65,
Trumans Water,
CMW,
Andrew Hill,
Vainqueur,
Graham Central Station,
China Crisis,
Robert Hood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
R.M.O.,
Glambeats Corp.,
Robert Görl,
Royal Trux,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.