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 East Timor and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Frankie Knuckles to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Magma,
Tubeway Army,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
ABBA,
Faust,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Barracudas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Symarip,
Minny Pops,
Gang Gang Dance,
Trumans Water,
Deepchord,
Camberwell Now,
The Flesh Eaters,
These Immortal Souls,
Metal Thangz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Liliput,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jawbox,
Godley & Creme,
Archie Shepp,
Fat Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fortunes,
Matthew Halsall,
The Fugs,
Graham Central Station,
The Last Poets,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Buzzcocks,
Michelle Simonal,
Don Cherry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nas,
10cc,
Guru Guru,
Joy Division,
Lebanon Hanover,
Parry Music,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gang Starr,
JFA,
The Durutti Column,
Henry Cow,
Das Ding,
Bizarre Inc.,
Chris Corsano,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Germs,
Maurizio,
Dark Day,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Average White Band,
Harmonia,
cv313,
Johnny Osbourne,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel, Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel.
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.