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 Ivory Coast and from London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Yaz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Barracudas,
Avey Tare,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Moon,
David Bowie,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Graham Central Station,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Todd Terry,
The Techniques,
Lyres,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ronan,
PIL,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dark Day,
Pole,
Boz Scaggs,
Porter Ricks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Section 25,
Marcia Griffiths,
T. Rex,
In Retrospect,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deakin,
Sparks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Parrish,
the Soft Cell,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Howard Jones,
Das Ding,
The United States of America,
Dual Sessions,
Darondo,
the Normal,
Stiv Bators,
Sister Nancy,
Henry Cow,
The Monochrome Set,
The Golliwogs,
La Düsseldorf,
Harpers Bizarre,
Arthur Verocai,
UT,
Banda Bassotti,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
B.T. Express,
Ornette Coleman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.