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 Indonesia and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Buzzcocks to the dance 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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Severed Heads,
The Move,
Wolf Eyes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Selecter,
Crispian St. Peters,
These Immortal Souls,
Model 500,
Minnie Riperton,
Marine Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brick,
Tom Boy,
Gabor Szabo,
Ice-T,
Schoolly D,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fuzztones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scan 7,
Bill Wells,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mantronix,
JFA,
Von Mondo,
Rod Modell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bush Tetras,
New Order,
Sandy B,
Kenny Larkin,
The Slits,
Talk Talk,
Gang Starr,
Cheater Slicks,
EPMD,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Susan Cadogan,
Kerri Chandler,
Franke,
Marvin Gaye,
The Tremeloes,
The Blues Magoos,
Section 25,
John Foxx,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Roger Hodgson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fluxion,
Davy DMX,
Bauhaus,
The Residents,
Pierre Henry,
Rotary Connection,
Prince Buster,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
The New Christs,
Slave,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.