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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum 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 John Lydon to the rock 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet 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 synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Anakelly,
Skriet,
Alice Coltrane,
Davy DMX,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Coltrane,
Aswad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quando Quango,
Mad Mike,
The Mojo Men,
Marine Girls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
New York Dolls,
Barrington Levy,
Josef K,
Harmonia,
The Cure,
Index,
Flash Fearless,
Donald Byrd,
The Fuzztones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
UT,
Zero Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Neon Judgement,
Sister Nancy,
Isaac Hayes,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
The Doors,
Groovy Waters,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Holt,
The Misunderstood,
Malaria!,
Tubeway Army,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Unwound,
Faust,
Chrome,
The Leaves,
AZ,
DJ Sneak,
Dave Gahan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Connie Case,
Blossom Toes,
Harry Pussy,
Swans,
The Zeros,
The Real Kids,
Bauhaus,
David Axelrod,
John Cale,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.