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 Somalia and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Mantronix to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Pussy Galore,
A Certain Ratio,
Wings,
Minnie Riperton,
Thee Headcoats,
Cal Tjader,
Crispian St. Peters,
Smog,
the Association,
UT,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
Radio Birdman,
Lindisfarne,
The United States of America,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Trumans Water,
Mandrill,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ice-T,
The Golliwogs,
Main Source,
Public Enemy,
Camouflage,
Duran Duran,
The Fortunes,
Cameo,
Ronan,
The Moody Blues,
Blossom Toes,
Urselle,
Leonard Cohen,
Darondo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
X-101,
Whodini,
Joey Negro,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aaron Thompson,
Morten Harket,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pet Shop Boys,
Motorama,
Jerry's Kids,
Wally Richardson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Buckinghams,
Wasted Youth,
Marine Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Q and Not U,
Barrington Levy,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.