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 Bahamas and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 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 Move to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Lakeside,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hoover,
The Toasters,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Tremeloes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Bananas,
Talk Talk,
Bad Manners,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash,
The New Christs,
Zapp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jesper Dahlback,
Moby Grape,
Main Source,
Tropical Tobacco,
Albert Ayler,
Nils Olav,
Pierre Henry,
Derrick May,
The Index,
Warren Ellis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Essential Logic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wire,
Deepchord,
Scientists,
Unrelated Segments,
Oneida,
The Dave Clark Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Matthew Halsall,
Kaleidoscope,
The Durutti Column,
The Offenders,
Scrapy,
Massinfluence,
Gabor Szabo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Danielle Patucci,
Dennis Brown,
FM Einheit,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Agitation Free,
China Crisis,
Cameo,
The Monks,
Skaos,
Urselle,
The Grass Roots,
Funkadelic,
Mr. Review,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.