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 Iraq and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fela Kuti to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Kayak,
Ronan,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Martian,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gladiators,
In Retrospect,
Faust,
the Soft Cell,
LL Cool J,
Supertramp,
Deadbeat,
Deakin,
FM Einheit,
Marc Almond,
Sound Behaviour,
Roxy Music,
Au Pairs,
Japan,
The Young Rascals,
Fad Gadget,
Wasted Youth,
Pulsallama,
Tommy Roe,
OOIOO,
Audionom,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Niagra,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brass Construction,
Wally Richardson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tres Demented,
Pussy Galore,
Stereo Dub,
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
Bluetip,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Moody Blues,
The Cramps,
Kurtis Blow,
Smog,
Derrick Morgan,
Cluster,
Subhumans,
Sun City Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hardrive,
Marine Girls,
PIL,
Desert Stars,
The Birthday Party,
Neu!,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.