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 Czech Republic and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Names to the rap 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Warren Ellis,
The Fuzztones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Angry Samoans,
Monks,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Soft Cell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ohio Players,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fluxion,
Can,
Minutemen,
Ludus,
Suburban Knight,
Unwound,
Stereo Dub,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultravox,
X-101,
Scion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Buckinghams,
Pere Ubu,
K-Klass,
Icehouse,
Rosa Yemen,
Lucky Dragons,
Susan Cadogan,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Near,
Glenn Branca,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Birthday Party,
Sam Rivers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hardrive,
The Mummies,
Funky Four + One,
Lyres,
Nils Olav,
Warsaw,
The Stooges,
Jacques Brel,
Roy Ayers,
Ice-T,
Malaria!,
Maleditus Sound,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slick Rick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Second Layer,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.