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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare 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 Stockholm Monsters to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Peter and Kerry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Agent Orange,
Nils Olav,
T. Rex,
Black Sheep,
Make Up,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dirtbombs,
Shuggie Otis,
Thee Headcoats,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Camberwell Now,
China Crisis,
Piero Umiliani,
Ornette Coleman,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Minutemen,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Judy Mowatt,
Depeche Mode,
Bluetip,
Silicon Teens,
Malaria!,
Minnie Riperton,
Grey Daturas,
F. McDonald,
Dave Gahan,
Lindisfarne,
In Retrospect,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marshall Jefferson,
Hasil Adkins,
Gang Green,
Jeff Mills,
Sister Nancy,
Rod Modell,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Parry Music,
The J.B.'s,
Goldenarms,
Sugar Minott,
Sun City Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Ludus,
DNA,
Matthew Bourne,
Aural Exciters,
Chrome,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wire,
Crime,
Das Ding,
Minor Threat,
Public Enemy,
Pere Ubu,
Lungfish,
The Velvet Underground,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.