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 Macedonia and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Los Fastidios to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Jerry's Kids,
X-102,
Lindisfarne,
Tears for Fears,
The Mummies,
Bobby Byrd,
Bluetip,
Archie Shepp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lyres,
Rites of Spring,
The Victims,
Excepter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
Duran Duran,
Jawbox,
The Invisible,
Livin' Joy,
Guru Guru,
Second Layer,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Faust,
Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Pagans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Byron Stingily,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
Susan Cadogan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MC5,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Saccharine Trust,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sandy B,
Harmonia,
X-101,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dave Clark Five,
Erykah Badu,
Infiniti,
Agent Orange,
Bad Manners,
Piero Umiliani,
The Birthday Party,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cymande,
Sam Rivers,
Jacques Brel,
Monks,
Basic Channel,
Aaron Thompson,
Todd Terry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Misunderstood,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Litter,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.