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 Uzbekistan and from Calgary.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Man Eating Sloth to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Glenn Branca,
The Black Dice,
Andrew Hill,
Scion,
Accadde A,
Japan,
Charles Mingus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Faust,
Roy Ayers,
The Golliwogs,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Model 500,
The Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Trojans,
Scott Walker,
The Gun Club,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pulsallama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soulsonic Force,
Tim Buckley,
Lalann,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pet Shop Boys,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Yazoo,
The Saints,
Iggy Pop,
Ultimate Spinach,
Das Ding,
Mo-Dettes,
Prince Buster,
Liliput,
Roxette,
Easy Going,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Pretty Things,
Pussy Galore,
Dark Day,
Newcleus,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
48th St. Collective,
Drive Like Jehu,
Technova,
Erasure,
Animal Collective,
Heaven 17,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lightning Bolt,
Soul II Soul,
Kerri Chandler,
Pole,
Nils Olav,
The Knickerbockers,
Motorama,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.