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 Bulgaria and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grime 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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Janne Schatter,
Hardrive,
The Electric Prunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Red Krayola,
Roxette,
Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
James White and The Blacks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roger Hodgson,
Rekid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pere Ubu,
Ponytail,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Cure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
Eric Copeland,
The Wake,
Robert Hood,
Albert Ayler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crooked Eye,
Glenn Branca,
Chris & Cosey,
Ludus,
Judy Mowatt,
Sixth Finger,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Suburban Knight,
The J.B.'s,
The New Christs,
Dark Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Drexciya,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Germs,
The Motions,
K-Klass,
Nirvana,
Skarface,
The Tremeloes,
Bill Near,
Robert Görl,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funky Four + One,
Stiv Bators,
Deepchord,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Erykah Badu,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.