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 Egypt and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Theoretical Girls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Velvet Underground,
Organ,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Symarip,
Man Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shoche,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang On A Can,
Eric Dolphy,
Danielle Patucci,
Fad Gadget,
The Star Department,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gabor Szabo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Roger Hodgson,
Jacob Miller,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Young Rascals,
Minny Pops,
The United States of America,
Kool Moe Dee,
Peter and Kerry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
a-ha,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Funky Four + One,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Theoretical Girls,
Y Pants,
Slave,
Henry Cow,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cheater Slicks,
Albert Ayler,
The Names,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Birthday Party,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
The Buckinghams,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Model 500,
Sonic Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
Nico,
Supertramp,
Livin' Joy,
PIL,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.