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 Yemen and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Smoke to the crunk 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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Tremeloes,
One Last Wish,
Albert Ayler,
Lakeside,
The United States of America,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vladislav Delay,
Adolescents,
Tubeway Army,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Kinks,
Kayak,
Niagra,
Yazoo,
Index,
Swell Maps,
Mandrill,
David Axelrod,
The Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Robert Hood,
Tomorrow,
Ken Boothe,
New Order,
Circle Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kurtis Blow,
Bad Manners,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Green,
CMW,
the Sonics,
Faust,
Reagan Youth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oneida,
Letta Mbulu,
The Raincoats,
Rekid,
John Foxx,
Judy Mowatt,
Nirvana,
Brick,
China Crisis,
Quando Quango,
Pagans,
Erasure,
Khruangbin,
The Residents,
Cameo,
Crime,
Pere Ubu,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fugazi,
The Modern Lovers,
Moebius,
Excepter,
X-Ray Spex,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.