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 Mozambique and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 sitar 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 The Dirtbombs to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Howard Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Marshall Jefferson,
10cc,
Ohio Players,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ronnie Foster,
Nation of Ulysses,
One Last Wish,
The Modern Lovers,
Oblivians,
The Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
Rites of Spring,
June Days,
The Fuzztones,
Aswad,
Tim Buckley,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Arcadia,
Minnie Riperton,
Bauhaus,
Alphaville,
Brand Nubian,
The Mummies,
Inner City,
Joey Negro,
Yellowson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Whodini,
Accadde A,
X-102,
Sällskapet,
Severed Heads,
Erasure,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeru the Damaja,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
a-ha,
Lalo Schifrin,
Niagra,
Swans,
The Victims,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Gang Dance,
Shoche,
The Cure,
Eurythmics,
Eddi Front,
Nik Kershaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Sherman,
Skriet,
The Velvet Underground,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scratch Acid,
David Axelrod,
Blossom Toes,
Organ,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.