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 Nigeria and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gabor Szabo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Star Department,
Shoche,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Sheep,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Walker Brothers,
Tres Demented,
Kerri Chandler,
The Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Lynne,
L. Decosne,
Alison Limerick,
Lucky Dragons,
Kaleidoscope,
Neu!,
The Vogues,
The Techniques,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Spandau Ballet,
Easy Going,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
Darondo,
Guru Guru,
Boogie Down Productions,
Malaria!,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eric Copeland,
Pantaleimon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Jesper Dahlback,
Joyce Sims,
Tomorrow,
Maleditus Sound,
The Seeds,
Eddi Front,
Colin Newman,
Blossom Toes,
John Lydon,
Alton Ellis,
Babytalk,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barry Ungar,
X-Ray Spex,
Jeru the Damaja,
Agent Orange,
The United States of America,
Archie Shepp,
Little Man,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scrapy,
The Gun Club,
Tears for Fears,
Isaac Hayes,
Don Cherry,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.