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 Belarus and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 MDC to the electroclash 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
Crash Course in Science,
Hoover,
John Lydon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Icehouse,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tommy Roe,
John Coltrane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Moody Blues,
Moebius,
Fad Gadget,
Excepter,
Mr. Review,
Stereo Dub,
Mad Mike,
Negative Approach,
Eurythmics,
Can,
EPMD,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gladiators,
Idris Muhammad,
The Dirtbombs,
OOIOO,
The Dave Clark Five,
Neu!,
KRS-One,
Urselle,
Electric Prunes,
Massinfluence,
Rotary Connection,
Man Parrish,
DNA,
Roxette,
Pagans,
Amon Düül II,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nas,
Fat Boys,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick May,
Lou Christie,
Index,
Rites of Spring,
Kayak,
Main Source,
the Bar-Kays,
Procol Harum,
Steve Hackett,
Gang of Four,
the Slits,
The Last Poets,
Kool Moe Dee,
Loose Ends,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.