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 Bahamas and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 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 Cowsills to the punk 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Toni Rubio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Index,
La Düsseldorf,
Stereo Dub,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bootsy Collins,
The Durutti Column,
The Electric Prunes,
The Count Five,
Mo-Dettes,
Sparks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The J.B.'s,
Robert Görl,
KRS-One,
Cymande,
Sandy B,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tears for Fears,
Subhumans,
Brothers Johnson,
Moebius,
Metal Thangz,
Los Fastidios,
Gang Starr,
Archie Shepp,
L. Decosne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Visage,
Black Flag,
Jacques Brel,
Dead Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chris Corsano,
the Sonics,
Black Moon,
Slick Rick,
The Pretty Things,
Stiv Bators,
Tres Demented,
Jawbox,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Holt,
The Cure,
Second Layer,
Black Bananas,
Suicide,
Shoche,
Adolescents,
The Fire Engines,
Ice-T,
Khruangbin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Remains,
Hoover,
48th St. Collective,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Byrd,
Radio Birdman,
Skarface,
Sex Pistols,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.