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 Mongolia and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum 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 David Axelrod to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Black Bananas,
X-101,
Bluetip,
L. Decosne,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sarah Menescal,
Niagra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Funky Four + One,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deakin,
Scan 7,
Skarface,
Icehouse,
Essential Logic,
Jerry's Kids,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Goldenarms,
Mad Mike,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Albert Ayler,
Cluster,
The Knickerbockers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Monks,
CMW,
These Immortal Souls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Womack,
Cecil Taylor,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wings,
Das Ding,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Darondo,
Grey Daturas,
Bootsy Collins,
Archie Shepp,
The J.B.'s,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gang Green,
Grauzone,
Organ,
Iggy Pop,
The Zeros,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Skaos,
Mr. Review,
The Pop Group,
World's Most,
Young Marble Giants,
Procol Harum,
Fugazi,
Mandrill,
Babytalk,
ABC,
Jacques Brel,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.