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 Paraguay and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 the Soft Cell to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Tommy Roe,
Minor Threat,
John Lydon,
Suburban Knight,
The Invisible,
Kenny Larkin,
Rosa Yemen,
Mars,
Accadde A,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Kerri Chandler,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chris Corsano,
Slave,
Max Romeo,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
The Pop Group,
Duran Duran,
The Angels of Light,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Intrusion,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camouflage,
Icehouse,
Letta Mbulu,
Ronnie Foster,
Sällskapet,
Popol Vuh,
Rod Modell,
Harry Pussy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Subhumans,
The J.B.'s,
Ohio Players,
Erykah Badu,
U.S. Maple,
The Black Dice,
Ronan,
Aaron Thompson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Flipper,
The Martian,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gun Club,
Minutemen,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Soft Cell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
Colin Newman,
Ultravox,
Agitation Free,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Toasters,
Kaleidoscope,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.