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 St Lucia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rock 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Surgeon,
Zapp,
Mad Mike,
Chris & Cosey,
Kool Moe Dee,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pantaleimon,
Trumans Water,
The Slackers,
Stereo Dub,
New York Dolls,
Josef K,
kango's stein massive,
Bobby Sherman,
Aural Exciters,
Outsiders,
Crispy Ambulance,
Carl Craig,
Lou Reed,
Youth Brigade,
The Kinks,
Massinfluence,
Sound Behaviour,
Todd Rundgren,
The Offenders,
Wasted Youth,
Eve St. Jones,
Model 500,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fad Gadget,
Ronan,
Minutemen,
Eric Copeland,
Motorama,
Reuben Wilson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
John Holt,
Blake Baxter,
Nico,
The Gap Band,
Niagra,
Ultravox,
Bobby Womack,
cv313,
Eddi Front,
Faust,
Symarip,
Morten Harket,
The Moody Blues,
Isaac Hayes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Inner City,
Maleditus Sound,
Donny Hathaway,
The Stooges,
ABC,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Yusef Lateef,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.