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 Cameroon and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ 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 Suicide to the punk 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
The Blues Magoos,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Icehouse,
Harpers Bizarre,
Delta 5,
Dawn Penn,
The Motions,
Bluetip,
The Fire Engines,
New Order,
Buzzcocks,
X-102,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Smooth,
The Gories,
The American Breed,
Malaria!,
FM Einheit,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Youth Brigade,
The Leaves,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Unrelated Segments,
Little Man,
Suicide,
Unwound,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gregory Isaacs,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Pagans,
Adolescents,
The Names,
Banda Bassotti,
Ludus,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Saints,
Scion,
Sonic Youth,
Second Layer,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wolf Eyes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cluster,
Newcleus,
Scratch Acid,
Prince Buster,
Thompson Twins,
The Residents,
Andrew Hill,
Skriet,
Sällskapet,
Sixth Finger,
T.S.O.L.,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.