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 Malawi and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Henry Cow to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Alphaville,
Iggy Pop,
Minutemen,
The Moody Blues,
Easy Going,
Swell Maps,
The Fire Engines,
kango's stein massive,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mandrill,
Bronski Beat,
The Litter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Gong,
Second Layer,
Wolf Eyes,
Blancmange,
Fat Boys,
Television Personalities,
Q and Not U,
Sexual Harrassment,
Duran Duran,
the Swans,
The J.B.'s,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Gang Dance,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Q65,
Lungfish,
Popol Vuh,
Circle Jerks,
LL Cool J,
Godley & Creme,
Country Teasers,
Scrapy,
The Birthday Party,
Man Parrish,
R.M.O.,
Bad Manners,
Can,
The Fortunes,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Blues Magoos,
Franke,
Vladislav Delay,
Goldenarms,
Simply Red,
Grauzone,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Lydon,
Khruangbin,
Erykah Badu,
Judy Mowatt,
Vainqueur,
Theoretical Girls,
MC5,
The American Breed,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Malaria!,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.