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 Costa Rica and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Count Five to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Harmonia,
Man Parrish,
Echospace,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Section 25,
The Neon Judgement,
Dual Sessions,
Alice Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Desert Stars,
June of 44,
The Five Americans,
KRS-One,
Slick Rick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rekid,
Arab on Radar,
Spoonie Gee,
New York Dolls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ossler,
Pussy Galore,
Das Ding,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Easy Going,
Scratch Acid,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fuzztones,
Hashim,
Scan 7,
Japan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Stooges,
Mars,
Moss Icon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Laurel Aitken,
Kerrie Biddell,
Steve Hackett,
Unrelated Segments,
Sam Rivers,
Fear,
Colin Newman,
Television,
Soft Cell,
Donald Byrd,
Con Funk Shun,
Theoretical Girls,
Marmalade,
Judy Mowatt,
Deakin,
Crime,
Glenn Branca,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.