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 France and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar 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 Basic Channel to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Von Mondo,
The Gories,
Iggy Pop,
Sarah Menescal,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythm & Sound,
Severed Heads,
The Fuzztones,
Mr. Review,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Busters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
10cc,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marcia Griffiths,
Dave Gahan,
The Cramps,
Amazonics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Khruangbin,
Shoche,
Faraquet,
the Swans,
Avey Tare,
Derrick Morgan,
John Foxx,
The Slackers,
Gang Starr,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Clarke,
The Electric Prunes,
Colin Newman,
Thompson Twins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Piero Umiliani,
Alison Limerick,
Lucky Dragons,
The Techniques,
Suicide,
The Gladiators,
OOIOO,
Electric Prunes,
Unwound,
The Dead C,
Cybotron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cheater Slicks,
Fad Gadget,
Graham Central Station,
Nico,
Animal Collective,
Monks,
kango's stein massive,
Ituana,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.