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 Zimbabwe and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mad Mike to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
The Moody Blues,
Yellowson,
Rod Modell,
Darondo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerri Chandler,
The Velvet Underground,
John Holt,
The Durutti Column,
Glenn Branca,
Cybotron,
Patti Smith,
The Litter,
Bill Near,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pagans,
Simply Red,
The Remains,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eurythmics,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
Matthew Bourne,
Connie Case,
Depeche Mode,
Q65,
Deakin,
Groovy Waters,
Howard Jones,
Black Moon,
The Moleskins,
Stiv Bators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Martian,
10cc,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Unrelated Segments,
Barclay James Harvest,
Babytalk,
Aural Exciters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Pus,
Jesper Dahlback,
Flipper,
Eli Mardock,
Rapeman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Section 25,
Dark Day,
Flash Fearless,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alison Limerick,
Sound Behaviour,
Slick Rick,
The Divine Comedy,
a-ha,
Theoretical Girls,
Funkadelic,
Metal Thangz,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.