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 Turkmenistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Cowsills,
Babytalk,
Bobby Sherman,
The Real Kids,
The Velvet Underground,
Sound Behaviour,
Mad Mike,
The Young Rascals,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
X-Ray Spex,
Reagan Youth,
K-Klass,
Talk Talk,
Deakin,
Index,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Marmalade,
a-ha,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scrapy,
Mars,
The Neon Judgement,
The Wake,
Pere Ubu,
The Fugs,
Sex Pistols,
The Walker Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Gun Club,
Cecil Taylor,
Motorama,
Lou Reed,
Animal Collective,
Unwound,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Amon Düül II,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harry Pussy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Clear Light,
Ituana,
Brothers Johnson,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monochrome Set,
Suicide,
China Crisis,
Khruangbin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Supertramp,
Aural Exciters,
One Last Wish,
Mo-Dettes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Robert Görl,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.