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 Malawi and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Glasgow.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The New Christs to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
KRS-One,
Crispian St. Peters,
Technova,
Bizarre Inc.,
Goldenarms,
Altered Images,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blancmange,
T.S.O.L.,
Bronski Beat,
Essential Logic,
The Walker Brothers,
Susan Cadogan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Modern Lovers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Circle Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Television Personalities,
Gichy Dan,
Nick Fraelich,
Arab on Radar,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cramps,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Motions,
EPMD,
The New Christs,
Al Stewart,
Pussy Galore,
The Dirtbombs,
Graham Central Station,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
a-ha,
Echospace,
Monks,
The Names,
Scrapy,
Brass Construction,
Dark Day,
Alphaville,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Severed Heads,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ten City,
The Cure,
Barry Ungar,
Suicide,
Siglo XX,
Pole,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
Mission of Burma,
Flipper,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cluster,
the Bar-Kays,
Radiopuhelimet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.