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 Singapore and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Yazoo to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
The Angels of Light,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pylon,
The Offenders,
Max Romeo,
Con Funk Shun,
Albert Ayler,
James White and The Blacks,
Joey Negro,
Pulsallama,
Lou Reed,
Gang of Four,
Barbara Tucker,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barrington Levy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Surgeon,
Bobby Sherman,
The Pretty Things,
Ludus,
Donald Byrd,
In Retrospect,
The Monks,
Desert Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
The Real Kids,
John Holt,
Warsaw,
The Grass Roots,
Technova,
Jerry's Kids,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dennis Brown,
Crash Course in Science,
Josef K,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric Dolphy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Bananas,
The Associates,
Boogie Down Productions,
F. McDonald,
Todd Terry,
the Human League,
Eurythmics,
Laurel Aitken,
The Buckinghams,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gabor Szabo,
Scion,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pantaleimon,
Peter & Gordon,
John Lydon,
Porter Ricks,
The Happenings,
Sound Behaviour,
Groovy Waters,
Al Stewart,
Country Teasers,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.