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 Somalia and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron 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 Shoche 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glenn Branca,
Crispy Ambulance,
Circle Jerks,
Scion,
Matthew Bourne,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
10cc,
Robert Wyatt,
The Music Machine,
Sixth Finger,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
Barry Ungar,
Mandrill,
Nico,
Stetsasonic,
Wasted Youth,
The Blues Magoos,
The Sonics,
Cheater Slicks,
Pole,
One Last Wish,
Tim Buckley,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Vogues,
Nirvana,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Josef K,
Sam Rivers,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ten City,
The Monochrome Set,
U.S. Maple,
the Normal,
Ken Boothe,
Freddie Wadling,
the Soft Cell,
The Fugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Newcleus,
The Barracudas,
China Crisis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
ABBA,
The Misunderstood,
Quadrant,
Pylon,
Absolute Body Control,
Minnie Riperton,
Lower 48,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.