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 Micronesia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 Brass Construction to the crunk 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Patti Smith,
Skriet,
cv313,
Amon Düül II,
Leonard Cohen,
Wolf Eyes,
The Selecter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vainqueur,
The Invisible,
The Misunderstood,
Banda Bassotti,
The Neon Judgement,
Public Enemy,
Los Fastidios,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dead Boys,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crime,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Khruangbin,
The Moody Blues,
Robert Hood,
Matthew Bourne,
Alison Limerick,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeff Mills,
Marc Almond,
Jacob Miller,
Suicide,
Cameo,
Moss Icon,
Ponytail,
T.S.O.L.,
Warren Ellis,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Guru Guru,
Graham Central Station,
Ice-T,
AZ,
Carl Craig,
The Smoke,
Second Layer,
Barrington Levy,
John Coltrane,
The Knickerbockers,
The Gap Band,
New Order,
The Star Department,
Tubeway Army,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ken Boothe,
The Fugs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Mummies,
Throbbing Gristle,
Popol Vuh,
Altered Images,
Deadbeat,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.