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 Tunisia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Outsiders 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Bauhaus,
Siglo XX,
Kerri Chandler,
DNA,
Outsiders,
Tommy Roe,
The Mummies,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Surgeon,
Reagan Youth,
The Doobie Brothers,
Skarface,
Radiohead,
Wire,
Stetsasonic,
The Trojans,
Rufus Thomas,
Blake Baxter,
Sister Nancy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
E-Dancer,
Niagra,
Steve Hackett,
Camberwell Now,
China Crisis,
The Residents,
Smog,
MC5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moby Grape,
Easy Going,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Techniques,
Joe Smooth,
Audionom,
Second Layer,
Susan Cadogan,
H. Thieme,
The New Christs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ludus,
The Five Americans,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pussy Galore,
Grauzone,
Stiv Bators,
Don Cherry,
New Age Steppers,
Bluetip,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
Alton Ellis,
8 Eyed Spy,
Connie Case,
Sun Ra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.