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 Congo and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
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 spring reverb 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 The Tremeloes to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Hot Snakes,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Sherman,
The Mojo Men,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Peter & Gordon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Duran Duran,
The Blackbyrds,
New York Dolls,
Lyres,
Scott Walker,
The Fall,
The Electric Prunes,
Sixth Finger,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Maleditus Sound,
Toni Rubio,
Dead Boys,
Alison Limerick,
One Last Wish,
The Toasters,
Boredoms,
Spandau Ballet,
Pharoah Sanders,
EPMD,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Skatalites,
Bad Manners,
The Happenings,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Pussy Galore,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sugar Minott,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Teasers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Red Krayola,
Minnie Riperton,
Warsaw,
Trumans Water,
The Pretty Things,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Letta Mbulu,
Sight & Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Star Department,
Vainqueur,
Sun City Girls,
Newcleus,
Babytalk,
Dual Sessions,
Mars,
Supertramp,
Rufus Thomas,
Don Cherry,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.