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 Guinea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alison Limerick to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Eurythmics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Wasted Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
Newcleus,
Steve Hackett,
a-ha,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harmonia,
Bill Wells,
Minutemen,
This Heat,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
F. McDonald,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ornette Coleman,
Television,
Grandmaster Flash,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Todd Rundgren,
The Birthday Party,
Arab on Radar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
K-Klass,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Babytalk,
Siglo XX,
Ohio Players,
Procol Harum,
Thompson Twins,
Fear,
Charles Mingus,
Jacques Brel,
The Gories,
Motorama,
The United States of America,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Toasters,
the Bar-Kays,
Ossler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Faust,
Grey Daturas,
World's Most,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dirtbombs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bronski Beat,
Alton Ellis,
Ultravox,
Minny Pops,
Au Pairs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
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.