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 South Africa and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Interpol to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Shuggie Otis,
Second Layer,
Clear Light,
Cluster,
The Monks,
Scion,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
Royal Trux,
Khruangbin,
Neil Young,
Suicide,
The Cure,
The Fugs,
Blake Baxter,
The Electric Prunes,
Soulsonic Force,
Warsaw,
Warren Ellis,
Gong,
Moby Grape,
Jacques Brel,
Donald Byrd,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
Eve St. Jones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
F. McDonald,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scientists,
Todd Rundgren,
Josef K,
The United States of America,
the Bar-Kays,
Mo-Dettes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gories,
Alphaville,
Lou Christie,
Sixth Finger,
Hoover,
The Beau Brummels,
Jawbox,
Jerry's Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Eden Ahbez,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Skarface,
Sam Rivers,
Lyres,
Roxy Music,
The Offenders,
Black Moon,
John Coltrane,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.