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 Bolivia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Leaves to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Tubeway Army,
Idris Muhammad,
Todd Rundgren,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
Bush Tetras,
Nils Olav,
Unwound,
Underground Resistance,
Laurel Aitken,
Deepchord,
The Fall,
Gichy Dan,
Aloha Tigers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cecil Taylor,
Blossom Toes,
Ultravox,
The United States of America,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Parrish,
Bill Wells,
Nas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Peter & Gordon,
Connie Case,
Whodini,
The Searchers,
Qualms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang of Four,
The Mummies,
Visage,
X-Ray Spex,
K-Klass,
Loose Ends,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mad Mike,
The Selecter,
Rosa Yemen,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Avey Tare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Angels of Light,
10cc,
Cybotron,
Zero Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Mills,
John Coltrane,
Kayak,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Patti Smith,
Marc Almond,
The Kinks,
Pharoah Sanders,
This Heat,
The Misunderstood,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
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.