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 Gambia and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Heaven 17 to the electroclash 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Roxette,
PIL,
The Gories,
Television Personalities,
Mandrill,
Sixth Finger,
X-101,
Charles Mingus,
Jimmy McGriff,
The American Breed,
Little Man,
Mission of Burma,
Sandy B,
Quadrant,
Nik Kershaw,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Modern Lovers,
Zero Boys,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Section 25,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Raincoats,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tears for Fears,
Stiv Bators,
Eurythmics,
Guru Guru,
The Flesh Eaters,
Henry Cow,
Surgeon,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Searchers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Buzzcocks,
Babytalk,
Max Romeo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Star Department,
Reuben Wilson,
Goldenarms,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Livin' Joy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
One Last Wish,
The Sound,
the Soft Cell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Agitation Free,
Sällskapet,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Todd Rundgren,
Scan 7,
Maurizio,
John Lydon,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
Al Stewart,
Vladislav Delay,
The Litter,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.