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 El Salvador and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum 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 The Fall to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
The Angels of Light,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
The Gun Club,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Silicon Teens,
Echospace,
Pet Shop Boys,
Livin' Joy,
Blake Baxter,
The Invisible,
The Durutti Column,
Laurel Aitken,
The Black Dice,
Dave Gahan,
Whodini,
The Beau Brummels,
Audionom,
New Age Steppers,
Trumans Water,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bauhaus,
Loose Ends,
Outsiders,
Dual Sessions,
Technova,
Jandek,
Fad Gadget,
Ultravox,
Gichy Dan,
Hot Snakes,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
Gabor Szabo,
The New Christs,
Black Moon,
Ponytail,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Coltrane,
Wings,
Yusef Lateef,
Soul II Soul,
Babytalk,
Gang Green,
The Martian,
Pulsallama,
Kurtis Blow,
Masters at Work,
Jeff Mills,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang Starr,
The Saints,
Simply Red,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Brass Construction,
Severed Heads,
The Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scientists,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.