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 Antigua and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
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 Jeff Lynne to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Symarip,
Section 25,
The Dirtbombs,
Yellowson,
The Blues Magoos,
Half Japanese,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quando Quango,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Copeland,
Shuggie Otis,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Litter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Agent Orange,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
John Coltrane,
MDC,
Monks,
Minor Threat,
the Association,
Flipper,
Maleditus Sound,
The Happenings,
The Music Machine,
Matthew Bourne,
Unrelated Segments,
Robert Wyatt,
Pussy Galore,
The Monochrome Set,
Outsiders,
Echospace,
Circle Jerks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Anthony Braxton,
Bang On A Can,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pantaleimon,
Warren Ellis,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
The Gladiators,
Nick Fraelich,
Supertramp,
the Normal,
Massinfluence,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
Black Moon,
China Crisis,
Malaria!,
The Count Five,
Niagra,
The Vogues,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Inner City,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.