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 Brazil and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare 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 Camberwell Now to the grime 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Rapeman,
X-101,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Babytalk,
Magazine,
Letta Mbulu,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bad Manners,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Masters at Work,
Magma,
the Swans,
Mars,
Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
X-Ray Spex,
Joe Smooth,
Scratch Acid,
Trumans Water,
Tres Demented,
Moss Icon,
Sixth Finger,
Darondo,
Bobby Womack,
The Walker Brothers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Black Pus,
Lou Reed,
Flash Fearless,
Soft Cell,
The Dirtbombs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Clarke,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash,
X-102,
Yazoo,
The Toasters,
Y Pants,
The Moleskins,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Trojans,
John Cale,
The United States of America,
The Five Americans,
Soul II Soul,
Goldenarms,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gabor Szabo,
Zapp,
Unwound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
New Order,
The J.B.'s,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.