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 Belarus and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 Goldenarms to the punk 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Angry Samoans,
John Foxx,
Don Cherry,
the Fania All-Stars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ronan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Spoonie Gee,
Warsaw,
Kurtis Blow,
Model 500,
the Soft Cell,
The Kinks,
Alison Limerick,
Lungfish,
Moby Grape,
June Days,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra,
Stereo Dub,
Howard Jones,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Animal Collective,
The Tremeloes,
Archie Shepp,
John Lydon,
FM Einheit,
The Wake,
Duran Duran,
The Misunderstood,
Fear,
The Last Poets,
Magazine,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harmonia,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Swell Maps,
Soft Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
In Retrospect,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pop Group,
Tubeway Army,
Echospace,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
Sound Behaviour,
Yellowson,
Lightning Bolt,
Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric B and Rakim,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Big Daddy Kane,
Slick Rick,
Royal Trux,
Soul II Soul,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.