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 Turkmenistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Iggy Pop to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Josef K,
Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Gladiators,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Donald Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee,
Drexciya,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mars,
The Busters,
Hasil Adkins,
Scratch Acid,
Ash Ra Tempel,
La Düsseldorf,
Eddi Front,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Half Japanese,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Excepter,
Unwound,
Magma,
Flash Fearless,
Kurtis Blow,
The Velvet Underground,
Harry Pussy,
Marmalade,
The Dirtbombs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Unrelated Segments,
FM Einheit,
The Birthday Party,
Alphaville,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Count Five,
The Golliwogs,
Faraquet,
Alison Limerick,
The Selecter,
The Evens,
Cameo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marine Girls,
Blancmange,
Hot Snakes,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
Qualms,
The Cure,
New York Dolls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gories,
Archie Shepp,
Stereo Dub,
Warsaw,
The Young Rascals,
Albert Ayler,
Matthew Halsall,
Lucky Dragons,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.