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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Fatback Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Pierre Henry,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül,
the Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bad Manners,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Wally Richardson,
D'Angelo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barrington Levy,
Deepchord,
Glenn Branca,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aural Exciters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sam Rivers,
Pussy Galore,
The Dead C,
Rotary Connection,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yellowson,
Negative Approach,
The Motions,
Mantronix,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Wake,
Ten City,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Foxx,
June of 44,
Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sister Nancy,
Leonard Cohen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fear,
The Seeds,
the Sonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Basic Channel,
Accadde A,
The Associates,
Amazonics,
Hashim,
The Velvet Underground,
Marvin Gaye,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crispy Ambulance,
Swell Maps,
Can,
Infiniti,
The Fortunes,
X-Ray Spex,
Lyres,
The Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.