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 Liberia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Rod Modell to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Image Ltd.,
Soul II Soul,
Spandau Ballet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
New Order,
Lindisfarne,
Con Funk Shun,
Frankie Knuckles,
The New Christs,
Pylon,
Panda Bear,
The Red Krayola,
Icehouse,
Bill Wells,
Cheater Slicks,
MDC,
Suburban Knight,
Rhythm & Sound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Arcadia,
Amon Düül,
48th St. Collective,
The Cramps,
ABBA,
the Sonics,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joyce Sims,
Ronan,
Slick Rick,
Qualms,
Harmonia,
Ponytail,
Sound Behaviour,
Dead Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fatback Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Leaves,
Yellowson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lakeside,
UT,
Quando Quango,
Warsaw,
X-102,
Suicide,
Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dave Gahan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fall,
Newcleus,
Brass Construction,
Neil Young,
Main Source,
Mantronix,
Ossler,
Technova,
Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions.
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.