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 Kazakhstan and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer 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 The Remains to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fall,
Black Bananas,
The Grass Roots,
Urselle,
The Leaves,
Flash Fearless,
Eurythmics,
The Tremeloes,
David Axelrod,
Wally Richardson,
The Standells,
Kerri Chandler,
The Buckinghams,
Cameo,
Pole,
Juan Atkins,
The Pretty Things,
Alison Limerick,
Man Parrish,
Country Teasers,
Crime,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ornette Coleman,
Maurizio,
The Happenings,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rufus Thomas,
One Last Wish,
Aural Exciters,
The J.B.'s,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Throbbing Gristle,
New York Dolls,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Clarke,
Soft Cell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Skriet,
Camberwell Now,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cowsills,
Cheater Slicks,
the Bar-Kays,
Joey Negro,
Ken Boothe,
Nico,
Maleditus Sound,
Boogie Down Productions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nils Olav,
The Alarm Clocks,
Magazine,
Todd Rundgren,
Khruangbin,
The Angels of Light,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
ABBA,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.