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 Benin and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb 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 Bootsy Collins to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
F. McDonald,
The Fuzztones,
The Leaves,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Quando Quango,
The Remains,
Bauhaus,
Lou Christie,
The Techniques,
Yaz,
Junior Murvin,
U.S. Maple,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roger Hodgson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mark Hollis,
cv313,
Basic Channel,
The Monks,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Reed,
Eurythmics,
The Misunderstood,
Eve St. Jones,
Avey Tare,
Visage,
10cc,
A Certain Ratio,
Jandek,
Reagan Youth,
Susan Cadogan,
H. Thieme,
Marc Almond,
Agitation Free,
Althea and Donna,
Byron Stingily,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Flesh Eaters,
Newcleus,
Anakelly,
Josef K,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crash Course in Science,
Ludus,
Minutemen,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scan 7,
Shuggie Otis,
John Lydon,
The Young Rascals,
ABC,
The Vogues,
Scrapy,
Sarah Menescal,
Arthur Verocai,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.