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 Slovakia and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the disco 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
The Sonics,
Urselle,
Arab on Radar,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Henry Cow,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Blossom Toes,
Ornette Coleman,
New Age Steppers,
Donny Hathaway,
Jacob Miller,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Terry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pole,
Harry Pussy,
Eurythmics,
The Associates,
Wolf Eyes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cluster,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Flag,
kango's stein massive,
Animal Collective,
The Vogues,
Colin Newman,
Eli Mardock,
Black Moon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Reuben Wilson,
Crooked Eye,
The Smoke,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
Camouflage,
Sight & Sound,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
Marmalade,
T.S.O.L.,
Duran Duran,
Radio Birdman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Index,
Simply Red,
The New Christs,
Basic Channel,
Fat Boys,
Circle Jerks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agitation Free,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lalann,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Groovy Waters,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.