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 Croatia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Black Flag,
The Shadows of Knight,
FM Einheit,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Pus,
Bobby Womack,
Crooked Eye,
The Standells,
Suicide,
Chrome,
Barry Ungar,
Juan Atkins,
Lower 48,
Quantec,
Franke,
Ronnie Foster,
Radio Birdman,
Hasil Adkins,
Subhumans,
Saccharine Trust,
Rekid,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
The J.B.'s,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tubeway Army,
The Last Poets,
Intrusion,
Agent Orange,
Radiohead,
U.S. Maple,
Banda Bassotti,
Icehouse,
Panda Bear,
Slave,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Sherman,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Glambeats Corp.,
Faust,
Bill Near,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
CMW,
The Mummies,
Con Funk Shun,
Electric Prunes,
Pantytec,
Babytalk,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Evens,
The Zeros,
Audionom,
The Grass Roots,
Urselle,
The Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
The Kinks,
Aaron Thompson,
Parry Music,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.