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 Cambodia and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Joy Division to the punk 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Joensuu 1685,
MDC,
Reuben Wilson,
The Dead C,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lebanon Hanover,
Absolute Body Control,
Minutemen,
Marc Almond,
The Monochrome Set,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Slits,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Zero Boys,
Fatback Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bluetip,
The Happenings,
Lucky Dragons,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Remains,
Danielle Patucci,
The Count Five,
The Mojo Men,
La Düsseldorf,
The Velvet Underground,
The Seeds,
Shoche,
Godley & Creme,
Avey Tare,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Derrick May,
Bad Manners,
Pantaleimon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The J.B.'s,
D'Angelo,
Graham Central Station,
James White and The Blacks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Public Enemy,
L. Decosne,
Au Pairs,
Fat Boys,
The Trojans,
Infiniti,
Monks,
Malaria!,
The Names,
Symarip,
Fear,
Depeche Mode,
The Raincoats,
Mad Mike,
Das Ding,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.