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 India and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick May,
Fugazi,
Danielle Patucci,
Grauzone,
Deadbeat,
The Litter,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Human League,
Tubeway Army,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Porter Ricks,
Agent Orange,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Harpers Bizarre,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Music Machine,
The Gun Club,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
Das Ding,
KRS-One,
New Order,
Echospace,
The Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Electric Prunes,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Holt,
Pulsallama,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Last Poets,
Slave,
Pere Ubu,
Davy DMX,
Robert Görl,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oneida,
The Walker Brothers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lindisfarne,
the Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
Kenny Larkin,
Radio Birdman,
Cybotron,
The Doors,
Gil Scott Heron,
June Days,
Bob Dylan,
The Slits,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Althea and Donna,
Barrington Levy,
The Kinks,
Deepchord,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.