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 Cape Verde and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Happenings to the electroclash 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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Johnny Clarke,
Severed Heads,
Masters at Work,
Zero Boys,
June Days,
Bush Tetras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Stetsasonic,
Funky Four + One,
The Slackers,
Skaos,
Man Parrish,
Monks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Kinks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Alton Ellis,
Pantytec,
Cybotron,
Intrusion,
Jerry's Kids,
Parry Music,
Piero Umiliani,
Crooked Eye,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lungfish,
The Five Americans,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fela Kuti,
Urselle,
Eric B and Rakim,
kango's stein massive,
Freddie Wadling,
Tommy Roe,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Doors,
Pierre Henry,
Roxy Music,
The Index,
Joy Division,
Kerrie Biddell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Altered Images,
Dave Gahan,
Minny Pops,
Mantronix,
The Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Martian,
The Techniques,
Sugar Minott,
The New Christs,
Moebius,
The Dead C,
Blancmange,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.