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 El Salvador and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 the Bar-Kays to the grime 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Spandau Ballet,
Junior Murvin,
Vladislav Delay,
Pulsallama,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
Darondo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Procol Harum,
Jacob Miller,
cv313,
Terrestrial Tones,
Anthony Braxton,
Crime,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Sheep,
The Smoke,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cramps,
Arthur Verocai,
Matthew Bourne,
Moby Grape,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Raincoats,
Kaleidoscope,
Essential Logic,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Davy DMX,
The Gun Club,
Fugazi,
Eric Dolphy,
Siglo XX,
Radiohead,
Magma,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cure,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crispian St. Peters,
Angry Samoans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Shoche,
Rufus Thomas,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bob Dylan,
The Index,
Scan 7,
The Seeds,
Skarface,
Gang Starr,
Pylon,
Royal Trux,
Barry Ungar,
Marvin Gaye,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.