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 Kiribati and from London.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
Pussy Galore,
John Lydon,
Maleditus Sound,
Desert Stars,
The New Christs,
Black Moon,
Dennis Brown,
This Heat,
Sällskapet,
The Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
Dave Gahan,
Kas Product,
The Beau Brummels,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Görl,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warsaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
China Crisis,
Malaria!,
Scratch Acid,
Average White Band,
E-Dancer,
Gang Starr,
Anthony Braxton,
David Axelrod,
The Kinks,
The Golliwogs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Raincoats,
The Gun Club,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fugs,
ABC,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yusef Lateef,
Shoche,
Supertramp,
Eric Copeland,
The Toasters,
Qualms,
Nick Fraelich,
Vainqueur,
Circle Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slits,
Roxette,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Smoke,
Delta 5,
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Ice-T,
Aswad,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Martian,
Brass Construction,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.