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 Antigua and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Pus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Hot Snakes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
Von Mondo,
Black Pus,
Max Romeo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marc Almond,
R.M.O.,
Silicon Teens,
the Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Monochrome Set,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sällskapet,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Colin Newman,
One Last Wish,
Deepchord,
Darondo,
Circle Jerks,
Bob Dylan,
Mandrill,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
Bauhaus,
Simply Red,
Y Pants,
K-Klass,
The Mummies,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
X-102,
The Black Dice,
Nas,
Iggy Pop,
Hoover,
Faust,
These Immortal Souls,
Main Source,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eric Copeland,
Don Cherry,
Judy Mowatt,
Warren Ellis,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rekid,
Mad Mike,
Gong,
Morten Harket,
Davy DMX,
Brass Construction,
Crime,
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül,
Maleditus Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.