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 Sri Lanka and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Camouflage,
EPMD,
Zero Boys,
Eric Dolphy,
Model 500,
Carl Craig,
Icehouse,
Barry Ungar,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Angels of Light,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amon Düül II,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Techniques,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dead Boys,
Agent Orange,
Brass Construction,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anakelly,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Country Teasers,
The Cramps,
Rites of Spring,
Peter and Kerry,
The Divine Comedy,
Bootsy Collins,
Scott Walker,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fuzztones,
The Doors,
E-Dancer,
Minor Threat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Scion,
The Gap Band,
The Gladiators,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cymande,
Lyres,
Aloha Tigers,
Procol Harum,
The Smoke,
Underground Resistance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Bananas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Visage,
The Electric Prunes,
Blossom Toes,
David Bowie,
Funkadelic,
Technova,
Brand Nubian,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.