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 Costa Rica and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gladiators to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pagans,
The Moleskins,
The Litter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Red Krayola,
Whodini,
Jacob Miller,
Vainqueur,
DNA,
Bad Manners,
Stiv Bators,
Alice Coltrane,
The Moody Blues,
The Techniques,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
Warsaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Terry Callier,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Skarface,
Popol Vuh,
Scott Walker,
The Move,
Ken Boothe,
Fluxion,
Reagan Youth,
The Zeros,
Maurizio,
Blake Baxter,
Aswad,
Deadbeat,
Thee Headcoats,
In Retrospect,
Average White Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric Dolphy,
Robert Hood,
U.S. Maple,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeff Lynne,
The Grass Roots,
David Axelrod,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Near,
Ituana,
Von Mondo,
Max Romeo,
Thompson Twins,
Soul II Soul,
Desert Stars,
Tim Buckley,
Todd Terry,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.