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 Russia and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Monolake to the techno 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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Flag,
The J.B.'s,
Cheater Slicks,
Q and Not U,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Trumans Water,
The Gladiators,
AZ,
Barbara Tucker,
X-101,
The Buckinghams,
The Dead C,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bob Dylan,
T. Rex,
Howard Jones,
Marine Girls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Unwound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Yaz,
Animal Collective,
Swans,
Gichy Dan,
Saccharine Trust,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Blancmange,
Malaria!,
Bad Manners,
The Selecter,
World's Most,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marvin Gaye,
MC5,
Simply Red,
Gang Green,
John Lydon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Normal,
A Certain Ratio,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crash Course in Science,
Rekid,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eric Copeland,
The Blackbyrds,
The Angels of Light,
Scientists,
Aural Exciters,
Schoolly D,
The Sonics,
ABBA,
The Smoke,
The Grass Roots,
Prince Buster,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.