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 Panama and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alison Limerick to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Slave,
Rekid,
T.S.O.L.,
The Residents,
Nas,
The Fortunes,
Max Romeo,
Parry Music,
Radio Birdman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scientists,
Procol Harum,
The Gap Band,
Cybotron,
Warsaw,
Robert Hood,
Franke,
Harmonia,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Quando Quango,
KRS-One,
Moby Grape,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dennis Brown,
Q65,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Leaves,
Marc Almond,
Babytalk,
Idris Muhammad,
The Doobie Brothers,
Isaac Hayes,
Can,
Zero Boys,
The Smoke,
Sugar Minott,
Rufus Thomas,
Country Teasers,
The Human League,
The New Christs,
Loose Ends,
Warren Ellis,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cure,
Soft Machine,
Gang of Four,
Althea and Donna,
Black Moon,
Yellowson,
Camberwell Now,
Todd Terry,
Lindisfarne,
James White and The Blacks,
Monks,
Infiniti,
The Offenders,
June of 44,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.