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 Mauritius and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Dead Boys to the rap 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Sällskapet,
Todd Rundgren,
Monolake,
Marmalade,
The Saints,
The Beau Brummels,
John Cale,
Television,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jeff Mills,
Marc Almond,
Sonic Youth,
Mark Hollis,
Section 25,
X-102,
The Five Americans,
Talk Talk,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Durutti Column,
Lakeside,
Ten City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eve St. Jones,
Lalann,
Johnny Clarke,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Slits,
Das Ding,
The Gladiators,
The Move,
Gang Green,
F. McDonald,
Patti Smith,
Stetsasonic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Los Fastidios,
Smog,
Man Parrish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Last Poets,
Roxette,
Buzzcocks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nico,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alice Coltrane,
Circle Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
The Trojans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Wyatt,
Connie Case,
The Monks,
Blancmange,
Aloha Tigers,
The Searchers,
Stereo Dub,
Throbbing Gristle,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cramps,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.