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 Tunisia and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Radiohead to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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?
Deadbeat,
10cc,
The Toasters,
The Slackers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Malaria!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Green,
The Invisible,
The Dirtbombs,
Swans,
Bill Wells,
Technova,
Judy Mowatt,
The Velvet Underground,
Surgeon,
Duran Duran,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aswad,
Yaz,
Porter Ricks,
Barry Ungar,
Joey Negro,
Wasted Youth,
Little Man,
the Normal,
Flipper,
Kerrie Biddell,
Symarip,
Scrapy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masters at Work,
Lucky Dragons,
Cameo,
Spoonie Gee,
Roy Ayers,
The Pretty Things,
Eve St. Jones,
F. McDonald,
Max Romeo,
Al Stewart,
Suburban Knight,
The Mummies,
JFA,
Amon Düül,
Graham Central Station,
Radio Birdman,
Marmalade,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Albert Ayler,
Leonard Cohen,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roger Hodgson,
Khruangbin,
Monks,
The New Christs,
The Blues Magoos,
Vainqueur,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rotary Connection,
Simply Red,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.