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 Colombia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Peter and Kerry to the grunge 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Morten Harket,
Qualms,
JFA,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Association,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Connie Case,
The Fire Engines,
The Moleskins,
the Human League,
Visage,
Ice-T,
The Seeds,
Wings,
Shoche,
Rod Modell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Victims,
The Misunderstood,
Terry Callier,
the Normal,
The Skatalites,
the Germs,
The Durutti Column,
Livin' Joy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Saints,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Clear Light,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mummies,
The Motions,
cv313,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Busters,
Agitation Free,
The Pop Group,
Vladislav Delay,
Surgeon,
The Cramps,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kurtis Blow,
Tommy Roe,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Music Machine,
Crash Course in Science,
James White and The Blacks,
Sister Nancy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Suicide,
Brothers Johnson,
Youth Brigade,
Guru Guru,
Bluetip,
Pylon,
Sugar Minott,
Whodini,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.