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 Nigeria and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the disco 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Tremeloes,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
The Martian,
Slave,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Halsall,
Jandek,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marc Almond,
Marcia Griffiths,
David McCallum,
Neu!,
The Sonics,
T. Rex,
Franke,
Toni Rubio,
Shuggie Otis,
A Certain Ratio,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lou Christie,
X-101,
Smog,
Massinfluence,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Motions,
Scan 7,
Sonic Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Laurel Aitken,
Junior Murvin,
Fat Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Section 25,
David Bowie,
The Offenders,
Fela Kuti,
Morten Harket,
Vladislav Delay,
Outsiders,
Pantaleimon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dead Boys,
Fear,
David Axelrod,
Tres Demented,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Hood,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Technova,
The Techniques,
The Saints,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roy Ayers,
The Gap Band,
The Dirtbombs,
the Association,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.