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 Honduras 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 DJ Sneak to the grunge 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Pantaleimon,
Public Enemy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deakin,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lalann,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bush Tetras,
Terrestrial Tones,
Susan Cadogan,
Henry Cow,
The Offenders,
Max Romeo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ralphi Rosario,
The New Christs,
Al Stewart,
The Flesh Eaters,
Livin' Joy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pere Ubu,
The Tremeloes,
The Moody Blues,
Aloha Tigers,
Accadde A,
Sandy B,
A Certain Ratio,
Throbbing Gristle,
8 Eyed Spy,
Todd Terry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Leaves,
Warsaw,
The Shadows of Knight,
Malaria!,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
John Holt,
Flipper,
Rapeman,
The Victims,
Sonic Youth,
Ludus,
Gregory Isaacs,
a-ha,
Minny Pops,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yazoo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Moby Grape,
Rakim,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.