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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Johnny Clarke to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Outsiders,
The Beau Brummels,
Malaria!,
Hot Snakes,
Saccharine Trust,
Thee Headcoats,
Jimmy McGriff,
Brothers Johnson,
the Swans,
The Tremeloes,
The Music Machine,
Scan 7,
Inner City,
Skaos,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angry Samoans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fluxion,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Normal,
Duran Duran,
Maleditus Sound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Görl,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pretty Things,
June Days,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Foxx,
Gang Green,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Christie,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sam Rivers,
MDC,
The Cure,
Von Mondo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Electric Prunes,
Minutemen,
Lungfish,
Ronan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Slits,
Black Moon,
Das Ding,
Tropical Tobacco,
Judy Mowatt,
Country Teasers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Organ,
Terry Callier,
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
The Human League,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
These Immortal Souls,
Grey Daturas,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.