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 East Timor and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Fatback Band to the disco 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Lungfish,
John Lydon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cal Tjader,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Misunderstood,
Fad Gadget,
The Neon Judgement,
Hardrive,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Easy Going,
Fela Kuti,
Country Teasers,
Blake Baxter,
Howard Jones,
Quantec,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Newcleus,
Lucky Dragons,
Traffic Nightmare,
Boredoms,
Organ,
Lalann,
Alice Coltrane,
Amazonics,
Todd Rundgren,
Wolf Eyes,
Jacob Miller,
Q and Not U,
U.S. Maple,
Surgeon,
Henry Cow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fat Boys,
The Mighty Diamonds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Von Mondo,
Gang Gang Dance,
DJ Sneak,
The Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Kerrie Biddell,
Stetsasonic,
Marc Almond,
Marmalade,
The Vogues,
Depeche Mode,
Agitation Free,
Dark Day,
Harmonia,
Gabor Szabo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fall,
the Normal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alison Limerick,
Radio Birdman,
Faraquet,
Electric Prunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.