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 Kyrgyzstan 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Throbbing Gristle to the funk 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Rundgren,
Jeff Mills,
Cluster,
Freddie Wadling,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scan 7,
Lakeside,
Black Moon,
Kayak,
New Order,
Brick,
Pere Ubu,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Martian,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Blues Magoos,
10cc,
Fatback Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Unwound,
Silicon Teens,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Hood,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Slits,
Trumans Water,
Kurtis Blow,
New York Dolls,
Pussy Galore,
Los Fastidios,
John Cale,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Young Marble Giants,
FM Einheit,
Lalann,
Maleditus Sound,
The Offenders,
Minutemen,
JFA,
The J.B.'s,
Lucky Dragons,
Icehouse,
48th St. Collective,
Bush Tetras,
X-101,
The Moleskins,
Yellowson,
Symarip,
Mark Hollis,
Max Romeo,
Fugazi,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bauhaus,
Camouflage,
Outsiders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fear,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.