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 Barbados and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 Lucky Dragons to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
kango's stein massive,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Pus,
The Five Americans,
Make Up,
Matthew Bourne,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Human League,
cv313,
Khruangbin,
Symarip,
Shuggie Otis,
Bush Tetras,
Sarah Menescal,
Barrington Levy,
Mo-Dettes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bizarre Inc.,
Skaos,
The J.B.'s,
Letta Mbulu,
Fluxion,
Los Fastidios,
Whodini,
Lungfish,
Bob Dylan,
Visage,
Jeff Lynne,
Wire,
Maurizio,
Fad Gadget,
Lightning Bolt,
Michelle Simonal,
Alice Coltrane,
Altered Images,
The Move,
Eli Mardock,
Black Sheep,
Fat Boys,
The Young Rascals,
The Neon Judgement,
Aswad,
Yellowson,
Steve Hackett,
The Gories,
Spandau Ballet,
Kayak,
Ten City,
the Slits,
The Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marmalade,
Swans,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.