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 Monaco and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Electric Prunes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
JFA,
The Kinks,
Blake Baxter,
New Order,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxy Music,
Marshall Jefferson,
Essential Logic,
Symarip,
Rufus Thomas,
The Monochrome Set,
John Cale,
Robert Görl,
Buzzcocks,
Ituana,
Bush Tetras,
Deakin,
The Dirtbombs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Banda Bassotti,
Chrome,
Newcleus,
Monolake,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Index,
Brick,
Scratch Acid,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Misunderstood,
These Immortal Souls,
Stiv Bators,
Aloha Tigers,
The Happenings,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Japan,
Unrelated Segments,
Dawn Penn,
the Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Hill,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Roy Ayers,
Moby Grape,
Reagan Youth,
Sister Nancy,
Con Funk Shun,
Byron Stingily,
Suicide,
the Swans,
The Residents,
Bang On A Can,
The Stooges,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.