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 Croatia and from Edmonton.
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 Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Index,
Magazine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sandy B,
Kenny Larkin,
The Wake,
Barry Ungar,
Dave Gahan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Simply Red,
Faraquet,
the Normal,
Con Funk Shun,
The Blues Magoos,
Radio Birdman,
Amon Düül,
The Slits,
Arcadia,
Monolake,
H. Thieme,
James White and The Blacks,
T.S.O.L.,
Cymande,
Section 25,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Underground Resistance,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Warren Ellis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Red Krayola,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Germs,
The Vogues,
Desert Stars,
Hoover,
Matthew Bourne,
Agent Orange,
The Divine Comedy,
Maleditus Sound,
Erasure,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
This Heat,
Soft Cell,
Terry Callier,
Loose Ends,
Cecil Taylor,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joyce Sims,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Buckinghams,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chrome,
Todd Rundgren,
Quando Quango,
Q65,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.