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 Mozambique and from Mexico City.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Todd Terry to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Erasure,
Gregory Isaacs,
New York Dolls,
Carl Craig,
Rakim,
Goldenarms,
Rotary Connection,
Icehouse,
The Moleskins,
Technova,
Amazonics,
Junior Murvin,
Letta Mbulu,
Lightning Bolt,
The Seeds,
The Martian,
X-Ray Spex,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Grauzone,
Aloha Tigers,
Sparks,
The Misunderstood,
Subhumans,
Arab on Radar,
Agitation Free,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Symarip,
Masters at Work,
Jeff Lynne,
Brick,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blossom Toes,
Kayak,
Procol Harum,
Mo-Dettes,
Minor Threat,
The Last Poets,
Angry Samoans,
The Sound,
Wings,
Toni Rubio,
The Knickerbockers,
Minny Pops,
Eurythmics,
Neil Young,
Max Romeo,
Lucky Dragons,
KRS-One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Simply Red,
Parry Music,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ossler,
D'Angelo,
Circle Jerks,
ABBA,
Hasil Adkins,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.