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 Kiribati and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Robert Palmer 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 Underground Resistance to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Newcleus,
Vladislav Delay,
T.S.O.L.,
Godley & Creme,
Barbara Tucker,
Lungfish,
Wings,
Cal Tjader,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fortunes,
New York Dolls,
Eric Dolphy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tom Boy,
Radiohead,
Lyres,
UT,
JFA,
Fat Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Trumans Water,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Count Five,
Qualms,
Yazoo,
Skaos,
AZ,
Quadrant,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantytec,
the Slits,
Morten Harket,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Beau Brummels,
The Five Americans,
Connie Case,
Soulsonic Force,
Throbbing Gristle,
David Axelrod,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Holt,
The Buckinghams,
Fatback Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Second Layer,
The Mummies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gong,
Symarip,
Mary Jane Girls,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Unrelated Segments,
Juan Atkins,
Scion,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Index,
FM Einheit,
Nils Olav,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.