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 Russia and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Piero Umiliani to the dance 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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Accadde A,
Boz Scaggs,
John Coltrane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Normal,
Japan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
A Certain Ratio,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Byrd,
Scan 7,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Scott Walker,
Rotary Connection,
the Germs,
James White and The Blacks,
Kaleidoscope,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Franke,
The Sound,
Electric Prunes,
Quadrant,
The American Breed,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aural Exciters,
Ronan,
David McCallum,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fall,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Amon Düül II,
Junior Murvin,
Anthony Braxton,
Babytalk,
kango's stein massive,
Alice Coltrane,
Danielle Patucci,
the Association,
DJ Sneak,
Mars,
Bob Dylan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barry Ungar,
Girls At Our Best!,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Clear Light,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Dolphy,
X-101,
Cameo,
Inner City,
The Red Krayola,
E-Dancer,
Gang Green,
Heaven 17,
Howard Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.