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 Russia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the crunk 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monochrome Set,
Dead Boys,
Livin' Joy,
The Index,
Bang On A Can,
LL Cool J,
Adolescents,
Deepchord,
Lyres,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Black Pus,
Jandek,
Slave,
Soul II Soul,
Wings,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Graham Central Station,
Quando Quango,
Section 25,
Michelle Simonal,
New Age Steppers,
The Misunderstood,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Marmalade,
Marc Almond,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Popol Vuh,
U.S. Maple,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Symarip,
Jeff Mills,
The Names,
Yaz,
The Neon Judgement,
Brick,
Surgeon,
The Slackers,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric Copeland,
Tres Demented,
The Cowsills,
Camouflage,
Parry Music,
Howard Jones,
Gang of Four,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lindisfarne,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
Lakeside,
The Gories,
Fatback Band,
The New Christs,
Rekid,
Scan 7,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.