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 Eritrea and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Mumbai.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Soulsonic Force to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Peter & Gordon,
Tim Buckley,
Carl Craig,
Iggy Pop,
Fat Boys,
The Names,
Minnie Riperton,
Skaos,
Dorothy Ashby,
Neil Young,
Anthony Braxton,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hardrive,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Doors,
Wire,
The Gap Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Moss Icon,
Reuben Wilson,
Sight & Sound,
R.M.O.,
the Germs,
The Fugs,
Magazine,
Massinfluence,
Big Daddy Kane,
Steve Hackett,
Ludus,
The Count Five,
H. Thieme,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Byrd,
Dark Day,
Altered Images,
Matthew Bourne,
Swell Maps,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sonics,
Quando Quango,
Anakelly,
Funkadelic,
Pussy Galore,
Fluxion,
Jawbox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dawn Penn,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
The Human League,
Bronski Beat,
Erasure,
Warsaw,
Flash Fearless,
Drexciya,
Colin Newman,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.