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 East Timor and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Interpol 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
One Last Wish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mars,
Popol Vuh,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sonics,
Inner City,
Traffic Nightmare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jacques Brel,
Gong,
Don Cherry,
Magma,
Soft Cell,
Qualms,
Ultra Naté,
Terrestrial Tones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Leonard Cohen,
Mr. Review,
The Angels of Light,
Mad Mike,
The Red Krayola,
Deakin,
Circle Jerks,
Urselle,
D'Angelo,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Andrew Hill,
Pylon,
Byron Stingily,
The Associates,
Glambeats Corp.,
Juan Atkins,
Joyce Sims,
Harry Pussy,
The Gun Club,
OOIOO,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Quantec,
The J.B.'s,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
In Retrospect,
Adolescents,
The Monks,
Ice-T,
The Dead C,
Sister Nancy,
Dark Day,
The Smiths,
Godley & Creme,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slits,
Eric Copeland,
Archie Shepp,
Althea and Donna,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.