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 Lesotho and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Amon Düül II to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
John Holt,
Delta 5,
The Grass Roots,
Steve Hackett,
The Barracudas,
The Divine Comedy,
The Angels of Light,
Crash Course in Science,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Maleditus Sound,
the Slits,
Marine Girls,
Urselle,
Soft Cell,
Sun City Girls,
The Mojo Men,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rod Modell,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rites of Spring,
Buzzcocks,
Metal Thangz,
Stockholm Monsters,
Angry Samoans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tommy Roe,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Desert Stars,
The Doors,
Patti Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Section 25,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mantronix,
Idris Muhammad,
8 Eyed Spy,
Roy Ayers,
Dawn Penn,
The Index,
K-Klass,
Excepter,
Niagra,
Half Japanese,
The Dead C,
Eric Copeland,
Wolf Eyes,
FM Einheit,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fall,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Vogues,
Little Man,
Agent Orange,
JFA,
Warren Ellis,
Lalann,
Thompson Twins,
Marvin Gaye,
The Standells,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.