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 Latvia and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
the Association,
Animal Collective,
The Pretty Things,
Skaos,
A Certain Ratio,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
The Walker Brothers,
Grey Daturas,
Magma,
James Chance & The Contortions,
MC5,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nirvana,
Second Layer,
Niagra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Excepter,
Joyce Sims,
Joe Smooth,
Patti Smith,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Mojo Men,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oneida,
Man Eating Sloth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Electric Prunes,
Wings,
Can,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Last Poets,
Scion,
Junior Murvin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Outsiders,
Moby Grape,
John Foxx,
This Heat,
Minny Pops,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Fela Kuti,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cameo,
Byron Stingily,
Soft Machine,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
David Axelrod,
Public Enemy,
Alice Coltrane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.