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 Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Star Department to the grunge 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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Mummies,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
The Evens,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pulsallama,
Circle Jerks,
Au Pairs,
Marine Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Peter and Kerry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Slave,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeff Mills,
L. Decosne,
The Fugs,
Cymande,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Janne Schatter,
Porter Ricks,
Public Image Ltd.,
U.S. Maple,
Eve St. Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
T. Rex,
The Toasters,
Lakeside,
The Vogues,
Groovy Waters,
The Doors,
Slick Rick,
Sandy B,
The Young Rascals,
Amon Düül,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Bar-Kays,
Duran Duran,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Television,
Crooked Eye,
The Smiths,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Judy Mowatt,
Mandrill,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Zeros,
The Last Poets,
David Axelrod,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rod Modell,
DNA,
Leonard Cohen,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.