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 Denmark and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 Velvet Underground to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Babytalk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Inner City,
Ten City,
Man Parrish,
The Moleskins,
The Cowsills,
PIL,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Sherman,
Bluetip,
Audionom,
The Electric Prunes,
LL Cool J,
Liliput,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Associates,
Hasil Adkins,
Metal Thangz,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pierre Henry,
Von Mondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Accadde A,
Yusef Lateef,
the Swans,
Surgeon,
Rekid,
The J.B.'s,
The Invisible,
The Leaves,
Mars,
The Sound,
Darondo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Quadrant,
The Slackers,
Connie Case,
Ossler,
Thompson Twins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Swell Maps,
Outsiders,
E-Dancer,
Sexual Harrassment,
48th St. Collective,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Negative Approach,
The Beau Brummels,
Davy DMX,
Matthew Bourne,
The Modern Lovers,
Echospace,
The Detroit Cobras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.