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 Mauritania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 John Coltrane to the rap 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Public Image Ltd.,
Malaria!,
Hoover,
Iggy Pop,
Motorama,
Patti Smith,
Angry Samoans,
the Association,
Saccharine Trust,
Fear,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bill Wells,
Lungfish,
Blossom Toes,
Khruangbin,
New Order,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Henry Cow,
8 Eyed Spy,
Von Mondo,
Supertramp,
Black Flag,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young,
Brick,
Swans,
Sparks,
Cameo,
Nik Kershaw,
Circle Jerks,
Ken Boothe,
X-102,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
The Cowsills,
Mars,
June Days,
Alison Limerick,
Icehouse,
Lyres,
Quadrant,
The Doobie Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Skaos,
Man Eating Sloth,
D'Angelo,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Black Dice,
Gabor Szabo,
The Count Five,
Robert Wyatt,
Pantytec,
Altered Images,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Birthday Party,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Slits,
Marc Almond,
The Cure,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
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.