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 Australia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soulsonic Force to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Vladislav Delay,
Dead Boys,
MC5,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cramps,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
The Five Americans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
X-101,
Bob Dylan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Remains,
The Birthday Party,
Newcleus,
New Age Steppers,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sex Pistols,
Excepter,
The Index,
The Skatalites,
Zero Boys,
Funkadelic,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Bourne,
Minor Threat,
H. Thieme,
Ituana,
The Monks,
Agent Orange,
Don Cherry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sugar Minott,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nico,
The Kinks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Donny Hathaway,
The J.B.'s,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Metal Thangz,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Junior Murvin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Neon Judgement,
Alphaville,
Fat Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aaron Thompson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Buckinghams,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Offenders,
Quando Quango,
Danielle Patucci,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Flash Fearless,
Mo-Dettes,
Massinfluence,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.