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 Hungary and from Toronto.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Public Image Ltd.,
Althea and Donna,
The Happenings,
Jeff Lynne,
Dead Boys,
Yaz,
Rapeman,
The Black Dice,
Tears for Fears,
Ronan,
Bronski Beat,
Swell Maps,
Eric Copeland,
Avey Tare,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Theoretical Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Patti Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Charles Mingus,
Carl Craig,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Dual Sessions,
Guru Guru,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mandrill,
Panda Bear,
Matthew Bourne,
X-101,
Grauzone,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Pretty Things,
Siglo XX,
ABC,
Niagra,
Blossom Toes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Delta 5,
Nirvana,
Wolf Eyes,
Warren Ellis,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brick,
Bang On A Can,
Public Enemy,
Q65,
Bluetip,
Organ,
Graham Central Station,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Fire Engines,
Deepchord,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.