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 Libya and from Tehran.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Minutemen to the electroclash 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Oblivians,
Harmonia,
The Residents,
Alice Coltrane,
World's Most,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fall,
Freddie Wadling,
Henry Cow,
The Tremeloes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gong,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Real Kids,
Section 25,
The Happenings,
Curtis Mayfield,
Royal Trux,
Charles Mingus,
The Trojans,
Deadbeat,
The Stooges,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cymande,
The Monochrome Set,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roger Hodgson,
Basic Channel,
The Grass Roots,
Scan 7,
Sun Ra,
Television Personalities,
The Barracudas,
Spandau Ballet,
Stereo Dub,
Nils Olav,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wasted Youth,
The Beau Brummels,
The Seeds,
Country Teasers,
One Last Wish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
T.S.O.L.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Coltrane,
Fluxion,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Green,
Maleditus Sound,
Hardrive,
Erasure,
the Association,
The Birthday Party,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terry Callier,
Faust,
Bronski Beat,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.