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 Vanuatu and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 David Bowie 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Cal Tjader,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Todd Rundgren,
Radio Birdman,
Janne Schatter,
F. McDonald,
Marvin Gaye,
The Dead C,
Chris Corsano,
the Normal,
The Motions,
The Beau Brummels,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Techniques,
X-Ray Spex,
Curtis Mayfield,
PIL,
Tropical Tobacco,
Second Layer,
The Gap Band,
Sun City Girls,
The Last Poets,
Vainqueur,
Porter Ricks,
The Cramps,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalann,
Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Sparks,
The Barracudas,
Soul II Soul,
Graham Central Station,
Josef K,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blackbyrds,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Smog,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
LL Cool J,
Ralphi Rosario,
Whodini,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blues Magoos,
Thompson Twins,
Sandy B,
Scientists,
The Young Rascals,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ludus,
Camouflage,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Cure,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rod Modell,
Warsaw,
Susan Cadogan,
Tres Demented,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.