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 San Marino and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Amazonics to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
These Immortal Souls,
Cybotron,
The Dead C,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sandy B,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sight & Sound,
Saccharine Trust,
Matthew Halsall,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Tremeloes,
Tears for Fears,
Gong,
Average White Band,
a-ha,
KRS-One,
The Vogues,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cameo,
the Sonics,
The Human League,
The Pretty Things,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Byrd,
Rapeman,
Rotary Connection,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Nico,
The Wake,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bill Wells,
The Associates,
The Velvet Underground,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Clarke,
Althea and Donna,
The Cowsills,
Lungfish,
Cymande,
Letta Mbulu,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Unrelated Segments,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Whodini,
Organ,
OOIOO,
the Germs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Warren Ellis,
Quando Quango,
The Gories,
Alton Ellis,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.