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 Bulgaria and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Slits 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Second Layer,
Moby Grape,
Simply Red,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
Wasted Youth,
The Fortunes,
X-101,
kango's stein massive,
Iggy Pop,
Symarip,
Fear,
Camberwell Now,
DJ Sneak,
The Angels of Light,
Glenn Branca,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Toasters,
Boredoms,
Oneida,
Frankie Knuckles,
Loose Ends,
Echospace,
Index,
David McCallum,
Slave,
Todd Rundgren,
Magazine,
Scan 7,
Kayak,
Sonic Youth,
Chrome,
Mo-Dettes,
Marvin Gaye,
The Last Poets,
Scientists,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Organ,
Goldenarms,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boz Scaggs,
Donald Byrd,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
The Dirtbombs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tubeway Army,
MDC,
The Fall,
Parry Music,
Fifty Foot Hose,
R.M.O.,
X-102,
Motorama,
The Smiths,
Buzzcocks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Thompson Twins,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.