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 Monaco and from Copenhagen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Pagans,
The Sound,
Warsaw,
Lucky Dragons,
Steve Hackett,
Donny Hathaway,
Deakin,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
New Order,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Womack,
Grey Daturas,
Dave Gahan,
Urselle,
Soft Machine,
The American Breed,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Buzzcocks,
CMW,
Tears for Fears,
Ten City,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry's Kids,
Saccharine Trust,
Susan Cadogan,
Masters at Work,
kango's stein massive,
the Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
James White and The Blacks,
Lower 48,
Albert Ayler,
The Divine Comedy,
Guru Guru,
The Durutti Column,
Kerrie Biddell,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Q and Not U,
Youth Brigade,
Maleditus Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ice-T,
Prince Buster,
Marcia Griffiths,
Newcleus,
Eric Copeland,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Names,
Crime,
Ken Boothe,
Little Man,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bob Dylan,
Harry Pussy,
Morten Harket,
The Trojans,
Tubeway Army,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.