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 Belarus and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Stockholm Monsters to the crunk 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Dave Gahan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nick Fraelich,
The Standells,
Niagra,
Blossom Toes,
Goldenarms,
Man Parrish,
Fela Kuti,
Bad Manners,
Barbara Tucker,
Black Sheep,
Warren Ellis,
The American Breed,
Shuggie Otis,
The Saints,
John Coltrane,
Public Enemy,
Urselle,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minutemen,
Hot Snakes,
Henry Cow,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column,
Swans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Thompson Twins,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Smog,
Grey Daturas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sam Rivers,
Carl Craig,
Anthony Braxton,
The Young Rascals,
The Fall,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mars,
Intrusion,
Cybotron,
the Bar-Kays,
Skriet,
Graham Central Station,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Angels of Light,
Depeche Mode,
Buzzcocks,
Aloha Tigers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Alphaville,
T.S.O.L.,
Qualms,
Scott Walker,
Popol Vuh,
Eden Ahbez,
Unrelated Segments,
Electric Prunes,
X-101,
Angry Samoans,
Erasure,
Parry Music,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.