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 Guinea-Bissau and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe 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 Technova to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lower 48,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Juan Atkins,
Fela Kuti,
Spandau Ballet,
The Offenders,
John Holt,
Flamin' Groovies,
a-ha,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Todd Rundgren,
Chris Corsano,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Skarface,
Brand Nubian,
Circle Jerks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Spoonie Gee,
Rufus Thomas,
Rotary Connection,
Crispy Ambulance,
Interpol,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mo-Dettes,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pantaleimon,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ituana,
In Retrospect,
Underground Resistance,
Leonard Cohen,
Marc Almond,
Sound Behaviour,
Quantec,
Vladislav Delay,
Eddi Front,
Popol Vuh,
Procol Harum,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Country Teasers,
Eden Ahbez,
Crime,
Thee Headcoats,
Henry Cow,
Sixth Finger,
The Standells,
Saccharine Trust,
Arab on Radar,
Rites of Spring,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ossler,
Reuben Wilson,
Kaleidoscope,
Harry Pussy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Moebius,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.