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 Cambodia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Chris & Cosey 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tubeway Army,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Monochrome Set,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Max Romeo,
Marine Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
China Crisis,
Donny Hathaway,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rekid,
Swans,
Brick,
Wire,
Whodini,
Bluetip,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Panda Bear,
Howard Jones,
The Toasters,
Delon & Dalcan,
Todd Rundgren,
Jeff Lynne,
The Blues Magoos,
the Fania All-Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
The Happenings,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-101,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pylon,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Index,
Alton Ellis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barrington Levy,
Kenny Larkin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Sonics,
Gabor Szabo,
Soul II Soul,
The Smiths,
The Slackers,
Erasure,
Juan Atkins,
Main Source,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James White and The Blacks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Godley & Creme,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Electric Prunes,
Wasted Youth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.