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 Kyrgyzstan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro 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 Au Pairs to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Symarip,
Danielle Patucci,
Black Pus,
The J.B.'s,
Khruangbin,
Bootsy Collins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Traffic Nightmare,
Half Japanese,
Fluxion,
the Bar-Kays,
Sonic Youth,
Sparks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Byron Stingily,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Moody Blues,
Pole,
Japan,
Ituana,
The Zeros,
The Divine Comedy,
Thee Headcoats,
Electric Prunes,
The Moleskins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fela Kuti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Panda Bear,
The Leaves,
Quadrant,
Unwound,
Mo-Dettes,
Michelle Simonal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vainqueur,
Ultra Naté,
Warsaw,
Matthew Halsall,
Spoonie Gee,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cymande,
Iggy Pop,
Davy DMX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rufus Thomas,
Sex Pistols,
Jeff Mills,
Lou Reed,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lower 48,
The Pop Group,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Sonics,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.