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 Solomon Islands and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 oboe 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 Evens to the crunk 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Second Layer,
Jacob Miller,
The Misunderstood,
The Happenings,
Minor Threat,
Spandau Ballet,
Reuben Wilson,
Davy DMX,
PIL,
The Grass Roots,
Excepter,
Funky Four + One,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Pretty Things,
Charles Mingus,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hoover,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
EPMD,
Pylon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dead Boys,
Wasted Youth,
The Skatalites,
KRS-One,
The Sound,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Germs,
Siglo XX,
Tropical Tobacco,
DNA,
the Human League,
Japan,
Amazonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
MDC,
Radio Birdman,
Graham Central Station,
Public Enemy,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
K-Klass,
The Kinks,
Outsiders,
Robert Görl,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Quadrant,
Cluster,
E-Dancer,
Grey Daturas,
The Gories,
Joy Division,
Bush Tetras,
New Order,
Brass Construction,
Alton Ellis,
Roger Hodgson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.