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 Switzerland 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Los Fastidios to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Radio Birdman,
Saccharine Trust,
Technova,
Trumans Water,
Gabor Szabo,
K-Klass,
Rites of Spring,
Gichy Dan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nick Fraelich,
The Smoke,
Magma,
Gang of Four,
The Stooges,
Marvin Gaye,
R.M.O.,
Eden Ahbez,
Mandrill,
The Vogues,
Monolake,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Monochrome Set,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Faust,
Spandau Ballet,
Dual Sessions,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Aaron Thompson,
Angry Samoans,
Archie Shepp,
The Velvet Underground,
The Five Americans,
Inner City,
Scott Walker,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alison Limerick,
Flamin' Groovies,
B.T. Express,
The Fire Engines,
Sandy B,
Suburban Knight,
Black Pus,
Marc Almond,
Guru Guru,
The Fortunes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Mojo Men,
Dawn Penn,
the Human League,
Talk Talk,
UT,
Sight & Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.