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 Kiribati and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Heaven 17 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eve St. Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Livin' Joy,
Urselle,
Scratch Acid,
the Association,
Newcleus,
Ten City,
Terry Callier,
the Normal,
The Slackers,
Cymande,
The Fire Engines,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultravox,
Drive Like Jehu,
Metal Thangz,
Delta 5,
Sun City Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Gap Band,
Deepchord,
Clear Light,
Nation of Ulysses,
Junior Murvin,
AZ,
Altered Images,
Public Enemy,
The Slits,
Electric Prunes,
The Evens,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dead C,
Robert Wyatt,
Sixth Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
Drexciya,
Barry Ungar,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
The Fugs,
The Gun Club,
Procol Harum,
Juan Atkins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sällskapet,
Sarah Menescal,
Severed Heads,
KRS-One,
Popol Vuh,
Sex Pistols,
Chrome,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nirvana,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.