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 Ireland and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Traffic Nightmare to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cramps,
The Index,
Nas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Yaz,
D'Angelo,
cv313,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Malaria!,
Sight & Sound,
John Foxx,
Mad Mike,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Urselle,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
ABC,
Alice Coltrane,
The Count Five,
Sunsets and Hearts,
James White and The Blacks,
the Sonics,
Spandau Ballet,
The Evens,
Warsaw,
Audionom,
Fear,
Funky Four + One,
The Dead C,
Wire,
Livin' Joy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Niagra,
Unwound,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Arab on Radar,
Lower 48,
Underground Resistance,
Lungfish,
Tomorrow,
Television Personalities,
Stiv Bators,
The Saints,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Smiths,
Duran Duran,
Bobby Sherman,
The Star Department,
The Tremeloes,
Visage,
Soul II Soul,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Arthur Verocai,
Boz Scaggs,
Minutemen,
Soul Sonic Force,
Johnny Osbourne,
Althea and Donna,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.