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 Botswana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Lynne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
PIL,
Franke,
Fat Boys,
Can,
The Fall,
Television,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Agent Orange,
Idris Muhammad,
The Grass Roots,
Rotary Connection,
Spandau Ballet,
Interpol,
Young Marble Giants,
Mr. Review,
Boredoms,
Fear,
The Slits,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ultravox,
Funkadelic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Guru Guru,
The Knickerbockers,
Nico,
Yusef Lateef,
One Last Wish,
Morten Harket,
Leonard Cohen,
The Mojo Men,
Section 25,
Make Up,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
June of 44,
Erasure,
Reagan Youth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Janne Schatter,
Lungfish,
The Remains,
The Dirtbombs,
Dave Gahan,
The Tremeloes,
Alton Ellis,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David McCallum,
Infiniti,
The Moleskins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Amazonics,
the Human League,
Joe Finger,
The Beau Brummels,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tubeway Army,
Juan Atkins,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.