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 Portugal and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 AZ to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
The Slits,
Tommy Roe,
Connie Case,
Masters at Work,
World's Most,
Juan Atkins,
The Kinks,
Funkadelic,
Inner City,
Althea and Donna,
Interpol,
Altered Images,
the Normal,
the Fania All-Stars,
X-102,
Khruangbin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ronan,
The Barracudas,
John Holt,
Drive Like Jehu,
Accadde A,
John Cale,
8 Eyed Spy,
Glenn Branca,
the Soft Cell,
Heaven 17,
The Grass Roots,
Talk Talk,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
Buzzcocks,
Radio Birdman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Laurel Aitken,
Roxette,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Danielle Patucci,
Y Pants,
The Wake,
The Remains,
Don Cherry,
The Smoke,
Bad Manners,
Joy Division,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Human League,
Qualms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Idris Muhammad,
OOIOO,
Mission of Burma,
The Mummies,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Outsiders,
La Düsseldorf,
Sister Nancy,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.