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 Madagascar and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South 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 The Moody Blues to the electroclash 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Patti Smith,
The Durutti Column,
Monolake,
Oneida,
John Foxx,
The Raincoats,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Techniques,
Television,
Tim Buckley,
Amazonics,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Excepter,
The Barracudas,
The Fugs,
Avey Tare,
David Axelrod,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Mojo Men,
Motorama,
Letta Mbulu,
Archie Shepp,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Qualms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Saccharine Trust,
The Birthday Party,
Mission of Burma,
Yazoo,
Urselle,
Albert Ayler,
Dark Day,
Banda Bassotti,
Pole,
Symarip,
Drexciya,
the Soft Cell,
Television Personalities,
Tears for Fears,
Scratch Acid,
Warren Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
The Smoke,
Cameo,
Henry Cow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Green,
Metal Thangz,
Anakelly,
Country Teasers,
Wasted Youth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeff Mills,
Morten Harket,
Sex Pistols,
Eurythmics,
Chris Corsano,
Carl Craig,
Bush Tetras,
Lower 48,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.