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 Estonia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sun City Girls to the grime 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Womack,
Warsaw,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bauhaus,
Hot Snakes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
The Leaves,
Bill Wells,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Altered Images,
U.S. Maple,
Unwound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marshall Jefferson,
New Order,
Warren Ellis,
The Music Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
T. Rex,
Livin' Joy,
Oblivians,
The Names,
Qualms,
Scott Walker,
Lightning Bolt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The New Christs,
Flipper,
H. Thieme,
Ultra Naté,
Unrelated Segments,
Sam Rivers,
The Detroit Cobras,
This Heat,
The Fortunes,
Jeff Mills,
Deadbeat,
Slick Rick,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dave Gahan,
Television Personalities,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Symarip,
The Human League,
Tom Boy,
Amazonics,
The Wake,
Todd Terry,
Sun City Girls,
DNA,
Buzzcocks,
PIL,
Bill Near,
Rekid,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.