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 China and from Philadelphia.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 New York Dolls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Second Layer,
Boz Scaggs,
Faust,
Fad Gadget,
Stetsasonic,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bang On A Can,
The J.B.'s,
Loose Ends,
Byron Stingily,
Simply Red,
Laurel Aitken,
Hashim,
Mo-Dettes,
Ken Boothe,
Deakin,
Zapp,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Halsall,
Cheater Slicks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Starr,
Delta 5,
Sight & Sound,
Neil Young,
Slave,
X-102,
Mr. Review,
Joe Finger,
Heaven 17,
Eric Copeland,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Walker Brothers,
Skaos,
Jerry's Kids,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scan 7,
Schoolly D,
ABC,
The Motions,
Pantytec,
The Mummies,
Talk Talk,
Bush Tetras,
Erykah Badu,
The Tremeloes,
R.M.O.,
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
Interpol,
Anakelly,
Magazine,
Man Parrish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lightning Bolt,
The Dead C,
Ten City,
Funky Four + One,
Maurizio,
Los Fastidios,
Brick,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.