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 Papua New Guinea and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Anthony Braxton to the electroclash 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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
E-Dancer,
Donald Byrd,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mummies,
48th St. Collective,
The Detroit Cobras,
Beasts of Bourbon,
H. Thieme,
Lyres,
Little Man,
Rites of Spring,
Dawn Penn,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
Shoche,
Magazine,
Marmalade,
Henry Cow,
Peter & Gordon,
The Birthday Party,
Soft Machine,
Boredoms,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Womack,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Searchers,
Scratch Acid,
The Buckinghams,
Schoolly D,
Con Funk Shun,
Marc Almond,
Harmonia,
Fatback Band,
Flipper,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pulsallama,
The Walker Brothers,
Scan 7,
Von Mondo,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Names,
Kerri Chandler,
Roy Ayers,
Lungfish,
Absolute Body Control,
Barbara Tucker,
UT,
Sonic Youth,
John Lydon,
Babytalk,
Lower 48,
The Real Kids,
K-Klass,
Nas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Interpol,
The Count Five,
The Associates,
Eli Mardock,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.