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 El Salvador and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Skriet to the electroclash 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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
the Human League,
The Tremeloes,
Funky Four + One,
Aswad,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Coltrane,
Glenn Branca,
Anthony Braxton,
Yazoo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Toni Rubio,
a-ha,
Iggy Pop,
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Arthur Verocai,
The Vogues,
Marmalade,
Wolf Eyes,
The Stooges,
Trumans Water,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
The Cosmic Jokers,
AZ,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Sheep,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Names,
Mr. Review,
the Bar-Kays,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxy Music,
Nik Kershaw,
Crispian St. Peters,
T. Rex,
The Count Five,
Darondo,
Roy Ayers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crime,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacques Brel,
DJ Sneak,
Neu!,
Susan Cadogan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moby Grape,
Technova,
Anakelly,
Don Cherry,
Alison Limerick,
Jimmy McGriff,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mad Mike,
Barclay James Harvest,
Public Enemy,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.