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 Swaziland and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Severed Heads to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
Livin' Joy,
Second Layer,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swell Maps,
Sound Behaviour,
Sun Ra,
Cybotron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Archie Shepp,
Johnny Clarke,
D'Angelo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Circle Jerks,
Crooked Eye,
John Cale,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Inner City,
Von Mondo,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Young Rascals,
Rakim,
Buzzcocks,
Clear Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ohio Players,
Skaos,
Pulsallama,
Cluster,
R.M.O.,
T. Rex,
Jacob Miller,
Deepchord,
the Bar-Kays,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Spandau Ballet,
The Standells,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Excepter,
Amon Düül,
Peter & Gordon,
Connie Case,
Rufus Thomas,
Thee Headcoats,
Erykah Badu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Agitation Free,
Young Marble Giants,
a-ha,
World's Most,
Harmonia,
Goldenarms,
Lou Reed,
The Smoke,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
The Offenders,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Be Bop Deluxe,
David Axelrod,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.