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 Marshall Islands and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gong to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Agent Orange,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pagans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Isaac Hayes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Theoretical Girls,
This Heat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
PIL,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ituana,
Michelle Simonal,
Boredoms,
Make Up,
T. Rex,
Leonard Cohen,
Moebius,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gap Band,
Tom Boy,
Kayak,
Laurel Aitken,
Mars,
Black Flag,
The Count Five,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Bananas,
Junior Murvin,
Ten City,
The Moleskins,
X-Ray Spex,
Tropical Tobacco,
Reuben Wilson,
Eli Mardock,
Gang Green,
Skarface,
Cheater Slicks,
Aaron Thompson,
the Sonics,
Livin' Joy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tubeway Army,
Interpol,
The Sound,
Marmalade,
Thompson Twins,
DJ Sneak,
Niagra,
The Names,
The Misunderstood,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Monks,
Trumans Water,
Adolescents,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Soft Cell,
Wasted Youth,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.