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 Antigua and from Bologna.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba 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 Ohio Players to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Derrick May,
Mark Hollis,
Tears for Fears,
Whodini,
Henry Cow,
Crash Course in Science,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eli Mardock,
Hoover,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
EPMD,
Carl Craig,
Cybotron,
Monks,
The Names,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Associates,
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
John Holt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gun Club,
Marvin Gaye,
Shuggie Otis,
The Litter,
Aloha Tigers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wasted Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cymande,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Shoche,
Mandrill,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deadbeat,
Newcleus,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magma,
La Düsseldorf,
The Sonics,
The Trojans,
Flash Fearless,
Brass Construction,
Donny Hathaway,
Kevin Saunderson,
U.S. Maple,
Thompson Twins,
Fad Gadget,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Monks,
The Zeros,
Vainqueur,
Eddi Front,
Stiv Bators,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.