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 Tunisia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Foxx,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Move,
Bizarre Inc.,
Suburban Knight,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kayak,
Nirvana,
The Saints,
Groovy Waters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q and Not U,
Sex Pistols,
the Bar-Kays,
Animal Collective,
Faraquet,
Iggy Pop,
Wasted Youth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
This Heat,
Hoover,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ossler,
Make Up,
Howard Jones,
The Barracudas,
Quando Quango,
Fatback Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brass Construction,
Junior Murvin,
MDC,
Eric Dolphy,
Au Pairs,
Essential Logic,
Warsaw,
Unwound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unrelated Segments,
Von Mondo,
Tres Demented,
H. Thieme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun City Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Eurythmics,
Negative Approach,
Morten Harket,
Average White Band,
Newcleus,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
Cecil Taylor,
Susan Cadogan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.