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 El Salvador and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar 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 Traffic Nightmare to the grunge 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cymande,
Scientists,
Pantaleimon,
Dawn Penn,
Tomorrow,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
Dave Gahan,
Accadde A,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ituana,
Mr. Review,
The Happenings,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
New York Dolls,
H. Thieme,
Desert Stars,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Flipper,
Underground Resistance,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Vainqueur,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
Quantec,
Bronski Beat,
the Normal,
The American Breed,
Urselle,
AZ,
Brothers Johnson,
the Association,
Talk Talk,
Jerry's Kids,
Bad Manners,
Grey Daturas,
T. Rex,
The Count Five,
Procol Harum,
Sun Ra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
R.M.O.,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kerri Chandler,
Liliput,
Robert Hood,
Pole,
Fela Kuti,
Thompson Twins,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.