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 Malaysia and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Maleditus Sound to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
MDC,
Sex Pistols,
Y Pants,
Hoover,
Simply Red,
Amon Düül,
Matthew Bourne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
T.S.O.L.,
Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jeff Lynne,
Rosa Yemen,
The Slits,
Warren Ellis,
The Gories,
Sight & Sound,
The Seeds,
T. Rex,
The Fuzztones,
Ornette Coleman,
Stiv Bators,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Curtis Mayfield,
Peter and Kerry,
Siglo XX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rakim,
Cecil Taylor,
Wasted Youth,
Yazoo,
Suburban Knight,
June of 44,
Alphaville,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ludus,
Dennis Brown,
Sonny Sharrock,
Delta 5,
Lalann,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
F. McDonald,
Todd Rundgren,
Sam Rivers,
Lou Reed,
Flash Fearless,
Glenn Branca,
Flamin' Groovies,
Leonard Cohen,
The Invisible,
The Star Department,
Tres Demented,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Holt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Grass Roots,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.