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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Porter Ricks to the electroclash 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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
The Real Kids,
The Buckinghams,
Rapeman,
Joyce Sims,
Section 25,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Gories,
Marc Almond,
Lee Hazlewood,
Little Man,
Con Funk Shun,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Heaven 17,
Robert Hood,
Lou Reed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fat Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
Faust,
Bronski Beat,
D'Angelo,
CMW,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flipper,
Alison Limerick,
A Certain Ratio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Arthur Verocai,
Laurel Aitken,
Electric Prunes,
John Holt,
The Black Dice,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Dirtbombs,
R.M.O.,
Moss Icon,
The Slackers,
John Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
Neu!,
Supertramp,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
These Immortal Souls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gong,
Scientists,
Moby Grape,
Isaac Hayes,
The Red Krayola,
The Moleskins,
DJ Sneak,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.