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 Iceland and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 Blancmange to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
The J.B.'s,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Au Pairs,
The United States of America,
The Residents,
David Axelrod,
Bill Near,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Misunderstood,
The Victims,
Sister Nancy,
The Fuzztones,
The Monochrome Set,
The Vogues,
John Foxx,
the Association,
Todd Rundgren,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Albert Ayler,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ken Boothe,
Monks,
The Dirtbombs,
The Buckinghams,
Barry Ungar,
Laurel Aitken,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Moon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
June Days,
kango's stein massive,
B.T. Express,
Gregory Isaacs,
Faust,
Pussy Galore,
Quantec,
Little Man,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Don Cherry,
Scion,
Urselle,
Qualms,
The Monks,
E-Dancer,
X-102,
Magma,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Popol Vuh,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pagans,
Infiniti,
Kerri Chandler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
K-Klass,
the Soft Cell,
Glenn Branca,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.