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 East Timor and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Steve Hackett,
A Certain Ratio,
Soul II Soul,
Rosa Yemen,
cv313,
La Düsseldorf,
Technova,
Jacob Miller,
Silicon Teens,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Depeche Mode,
Lalann,
Barry Ungar,
The Music Machine,
Minutemen,
Rites of Spring,
Outsiders,
Ornette Coleman,
Josef K,
Bill Near,
Bill Wells,
The Fall,
Marc Almond,
Parry Music,
Pierre Henry,
Saccharine Trust,
Sällskapet,
Sonny Sharrock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Das Ding,
The Angels of Light,
Camberwell Now,
Derrick Morgan,
Japan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hardrive,
Skaos,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Names,
The Dead C,
DJ Style,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crooked Eye,
The Young Rascals,
Man Parrish,
Lakeside,
Brick,
Visage,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grauzone,
K-Klass,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Smoke,
Ultra Naté,
a-ha,
The Seeds,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.