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 Malta and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Flamin' Groovies 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Ronan,
L. Decosne,
Wally Richardson,
Blancmange,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
Accadde A,
Archie Shepp,
PIL,
The Fuzztones,
The Victims,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The J.B.'s,
Lou Reed,
Y Pants,
B.T. Express,
MC5,
Cal Tjader,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minny Pops,
Pagans,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
EPMD,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sonics,
Derrick May,
Index,
Sandy B,
Darondo,
Sight & Sound,
The Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
the Bar-Kays,
Popol Vuh,
Dave Gahan,
Heaven 17,
The Names,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Parrish,
The Selecter,
Guru Guru,
Joyce Sims,
Boredoms,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sixth Finger,
Radio Birdman,
Country Teasers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camberwell Now,
Dennis Brown,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Slick Rick,
Mark Hollis,
Colin Newman,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Kinks,
Basic Channel,
Fluxion,
Q and Not U,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.