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 Pakistan and from New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Royal Trux to the crunk 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Davy DMX,
Lou Christie,
The Real Kids,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roxette,
The Residents,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
Sparks,
June Days,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cecil Taylor,
Swans,
Supertramp,
The Raincoats,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Smog,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pussy Galore,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gap Band,
Youth Brigade,
The Standells,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q65,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Erasure,
This Heat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang Green,
Cameo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mars,
John Foxx,
Wolf Eyes,
Arcadia,
Royal Trux,
The Dirtbombs,
a-ha,
Interpol,
Kerrie Biddell,
Laurel Aitken,
Moebius,
Barrington Levy,
Thompson Twins,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arthur Verocai,
Sexual Harrassment,
Curtis Mayfield,
Isaac Hayes,
Television,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
B.T. Express,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.