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 Botswana 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Slits to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cramps,
Bad Manners,
Cymande,
John Foxx,
The Misunderstood,
Chrome,
Cybotron,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blossom Toes,
Marmalade,
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultravox,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tommy Roe,
Eurythmics,
The Five Americans,
The Mojo Men,
Supertramp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stetsasonic,
Neu!,
Rapeman,
Mars,
Oblivians,
X-101,
La Düsseldorf,
Zapp,
Basic Channel,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minutemen,
Saccharine Trust,
Pulsallama,
ABC,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roy Ayers,
Goldenarms,
cv313,
The Fortunes,
Arcadia,
Bootsy Collins,
Sex Pistols,
The Modern Lovers,
The Seeds,
Eric Dolphy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Faraquet,
Mr. Review,
Black Bananas,
Scan 7,
Marvin Gaye,
Jandek,
Can,
Ossler,
Pet Shop Boys,
Khruangbin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Selecter,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.