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 Spain and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Das Ding to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
The Index,
Johnny Osbourne,
Steve Hackett,
Black Sheep,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Warsaw,
Kayak,
Bronski Beat,
Donny Hathaway,
Scan 7,
Donald Byrd,
Surgeon,
Thompson Twins,
Kenny Larkin,
Patti Smith,
Electric Prunes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Techniques,
the Bar-Kays,
Procol Harum,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
the Normal,
Con Funk Shun,
Niagra,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Residents,
The Fuzztones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mojo Men,
EPMD,
T. Rex,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
James White and The Blacks,
Radio Birdman,
Arcadia,
D'Angelo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scrapy,
Henry Cow,
A Certain Ratio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
Quantec,
Sun Ra,
Ten City,
Peter and Kerry,
Dave Gahan,
Leonard Cohen,
Bill Wells,
Michelle Simonal,
Bauhaus,
Rapeman,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jawbox,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.