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 Turkey and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar 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 Beau Brummels to the jazz 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Stooges,
Junior Murvin,
John Foxx,
X-102,
Pussy Galore,
Silicon Teens,
Q and Not U,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
Television Personalities,
Gong,
Radio Birdman,
The Toasters,
Dave Gahan,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aaron Thompson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Knickerbockers,
Soul II Soul,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lou Christie,
Ornette Coleman,
Blake Baxter,
Joe Smooth,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
Youth Brigade,
Ossler,
Sonic Youth,
Colin Newman,
Unrelated Segments,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sight & Sound,
The Cowsills,
Boredoms,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moleskins,
Anakelly,
Camberwell Now,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cymande,
Tears for Fears,
Zapp,
Duran Duran,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wasted Youth,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
John Lydon,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.