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 Iraq and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cure to the jazz 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Stereo Dub,
John Lydon,
Warsaw,
Zapp,
Jerry's Kids,
Trumans Water,
Gastr Del Sol,
H. Thieme,
Dead Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Aural Exciters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Japan,
The Blues Magoos,
The Walker Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
Kurtis Blow,
MDC,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sonic Youth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dark Day,
Pantytec,
Letta Mbulu,
Ten City,
The New Christs,
The Victims,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gun Club,
Dawn Penn,
The Seeds,
X-101,
Simply Red,
Arab on Radar,
Malaria!,
Carl Craig,
Graham Central Station,
Joey Negro,
John Cale,
Blancmange,
the Germs,
Skriet,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Motions,
Roger Hodgson,
Sister Nancy,
New York Dolls,
Ohio Players,
World's Most,
Wings,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Soul II Soul,
Wasted Youth,
Roxette,
Lightning Bolt,
Boz Scaggs,
Mantronix,
Dennis Brown,
Lucky Dragons,
Reagan Youth,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.