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 Bhutan and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fortunes to the grime 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Swans,
Malaria!,
Danielle Patucci,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stiv Bators,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fall,
Brothers Johnson,
Minutemen,
Bad Manners,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faust,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Depeche Mode,
Toni Rubio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Funkadelic,
48th St. Collective,
Cybotron,
Dennis Brown,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
The Happenings,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Saccharine Trust,
Lyres,
B.T. Express,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Fuzztones,
David McCallum,
The Smoke,
Eurythmics,
Black Pus,
Steve Hackett,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Divine Comedy,
Chris Corsano,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bluetip,
The Angels of Light,
Easy Going,
The Mummies,
Man Eating Sloth,
Leonard Cohen,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Donny Hathaway,
Niagra,
Robert Görl,
The Fortunes,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wire,
Japan,
The Electric Prunes,
Crime,
Chris & Cosey,
Television Personalities,
The Skatalites,
The Toasters,
Cal Tjader,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.