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 Monaco and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Monks to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
ABC,
Dorothy Ashby,
Surgeon,
Kurtis Blow,
Suicide,
R.M.O.,
Ossler,
Idris Muhammad,
Lou Reed,
Ultimate Spinach,
Moby Grape,
Nirvana,
Big Daddy Kane,
Von Mondo,
Wally Richardson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nik Kershaw,
The Knickerbockers,
a-ha,
the Soft Cell,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Q65,
Bobby Sherman,
Pierre Henry,
Howard Jones,
cv313,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slave,
Sound Behaviour,
John Lydon,
Oneida,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Arcadia,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Supertramp,
Yaz,
Bad Manners,
Intrusion,
Organ,
Hardrive,
Los Fastidios,
Maurizio,
X-Ray Spex,
Matthew Halsall,
Animal Collective,
The Selecter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Section 25,
Mark Hollis,
Sight & Sound,
Faust,
Eric Dolphy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gabor Szabo,
Tears for Fears,
Soft Cell,
The Walker Brothers,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.