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 Chad and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Offenders to the dance 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Nico,
June Days,
Howard Jones,
Flipper,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aaron Thompson,
The Grass Roots,
Fat Boys,
The Beau Brummels,
Dead Boys,
Eden Ahbez,
10cc,
Intrusion,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Fuzztones,
Juan Atkins,
Newcleus,
Stetsasonic,
Marc Almond,
Ice-T,
Tears for Fears,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sisters of Mercy,
David Bowie,
The Residents,
The Birthday Party,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Thompson Twins,
The J.B.'s,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
Nik Kershaw,
Hoover,
Stereo Dub,
Swell Maps,
Inner City,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Fortunes,
B.T. Express,
Trumans Water,
Sixth Finger,
EPMD,
Massinfluence,
the Sonics,
Groovy Waters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ten City,
Lou Reed,
Connie Case,
Skarface,
Matthew Halsall,
Wolf Eyes,
Soft Cell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joy Division,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alphaville,
Chrome,
Index,
Altered Images,
Patti Smith,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.