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 Saudi Arabia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Names to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Amazonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Real Kids,
Jeff Lynne,
The Stooges,
Jeff Mills,
Rosa Yemen,
The Walker Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
Tomorrow,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
FM Einheit,
The Happenings,
Donny Hathaway,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Near,
The Move,
Scott Walker,
Fugazi,
Saccharine Trust,
Niagra,
The Techniques,
Subhumans,
Model 500,
Desert Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Althea and Donna,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blossom Toes,
Q and Not U,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ronan,
Bill Wells,
The American Breed,
Susan Cadogan,
Michelle Simonal,
Rites of Spring,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Public Enemy,
Oblivians,
Altered Images,
Bauhaus,
Animal Collective,
Absolute Body Control,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
The Busters,
X-101,
Magazine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
L. Decosne,
The Knickerbockers,
Spandau Ballet,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Barrington Levy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terry Callier,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.