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 Ecuador and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Guru Guru,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
E-Dancer,
Heaven 17,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
L. Decosne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Barclay James Harvest,
Godley & Creme,
Ralphi Rosario,
Joy Division,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Morten Harket,
Anakelly,
K-Klass,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Groovy Waters,
Sixth Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
F. McDonald,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spandau Ballet,
June of 44,
Sight & Sound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Trumans Water,
Unrelated Segments,
Alphaville,
the Germs,
Rufus Thomas,
Qualms,
Scrapy,
The Pop Group,
Josef K,
Deadbeat,
Excepter,
The Gories,
Susan Cadogan,
Charles Mingus,
Camouflage,
David Axelrod,
Bob Dylan,
The Pretty Things,
Cluster,
Ornette Coleman,
Barry Ungar,
Tomorrow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Busters,
Icehouse,
R.M.O.,
Au Pairs,
ABC,
Marc Almond,
Kenny Larkin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.