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 Luxembourg and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dark Day to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler 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?
Fat Boys,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
PIL,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Foxx,
Judy Mowatt,
Sugar Minott,
Swell Maps,
Eli Mardock,
Fad Gadget,
Yusef Lateef,
Letta Mbulu,
Marine Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Scan 7,
Robert Görl,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Supertramp,
Fatback Band,
Severed Heads,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Walker Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Henry Cow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Remains,
Cameo,
Mad Mike,
Youth Brigade,
Bobby Byrd,
Josef K,
Archie Shepp,
Funkadelic,
Outsiders,
The Neon Judgement,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
The Divine Comedy,
Tommy Roe,
The Martian,
Adolescents,
kango's stein massive,
The Grass Roots,
Swans,
The Sound,
The Gladiators,
Royal Trux,
The Leaves,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Tremeloes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Warsaw,
John Cale,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Index,
The Invisible,
The Fire Engines,
Terry Callier,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.