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 Andorra and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin 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 Fugazi to the jazz 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Banda Bassotti,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Y Pants,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joey Negro,
Spoonie Gee,
The Cramps,
Amazonics,
The Smoke,
Bob Dylan,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sound,
The Cowsills,
June of 44,
Maleditus Sound,
48th St. Collective,
Eli Mardock,
Agent Orange,
Sexual Harrassment,
Spandau Ballet,
The Misunderstood,
K-Klass,
Jacques Brel,
ABBA,
This Heat,
Tears for Fears,
The Blues Magoos,
Boredoms,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Normal,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Alphaville,
Ponytail,
Can,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
Public Enemy,
Ice-T,
Derrick May,
The Moleskins,
Brand Nubian,
Joensuu 1685,
Sugar Minott,
Fear,
The Fuzztones,
Swans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Blake Baxter,
Radiohead,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Thompson Twins,
Adolescents,
Crash Course in Science,
Delon & Dalcan,
Charles Mingus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Los Fastidios,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.