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 Bahrain and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Dirtbombs to the electroclash 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Underground Resistance,
The Misunderstood,
Sun Ra,
Roxette,
Lou Reed,
June of 44,
Japan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Little Man,
Hasil Adkins,
Fear,
Gang of Four,
Scan 7,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Smog,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang Green,
The Fall,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magazine,
Intrusion,
Amon Düül II,
48th St. Collective,
The Remains,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stiv Bators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marine Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lalann,
Drive Like Jehu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
A Certain Ratio,
Nico,
Depeche Mode,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joyce Sims,
Motorama,
Brothers Johnson,
Main Source,
The Fugs,
Essential Logic,
Colin Newman,
Arcadia,
Donny Hathaway,
Boogie Down Productions,
Deadbeat,
Graham Central Station,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Schoolly D,
Sun City Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Motions,
Niagra,
Dead Boys,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.