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 United Kingdom and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 T.S.O.L. to the grunge 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
U.S. Maple,
Matthew Halsall,
Drexciya,
Yellowson,
The Saints,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Depeche Mode,
Pere Ubu,
Joy Division,
Reuben Wilson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Colin Newman,
Los Fastidios,
Godley & Creme,
Derrick May,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Shoche,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Standells,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mo-Dettes,
The Durutti Column,
K-Klass,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
La Düsseldorf,
Scan 7,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Patti Smith,
Nico,
Robert Hood,
The Red Krayola,
Leonard Cohen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Quantec,
Danielle Patucci,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tears for Fears,
Oblivians,
Crooked Eye,
Dawn Penn,
Clear Light,
This Heat,
Television Personalities,
Gang Starr,
The Associates,
Sun City Girls,
Faraquet,
Kerrie Biddell,
Organ,
Jacques Brel,
Sonic Youth,
Bronski Beat,
Marmalade,
The Searchers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Martian,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.