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 Seychelles and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 New Age Steppers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Sonics,
Rekid,
Anakelly,
MC5,
Gang Starr,
The Invisible,
Big Daddy Kane,
Circle Jerks,
Oblivians,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Monochrome Set,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Flag,
The Victims,
The Cowsills,
Slick Rick,
the Bar-Kays,
Yusef Lateef,
Bang On A Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Accadde A,
Rites of Spring,
Trumans Water,
The Dead C,
Simply Red,
Sun Ra,
Aswad,
The Fire Engines,
the Normal,
Jacques Brel,
Lakeside,
Little Man,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eric Dolphy,
Alton Ellis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Red Krayola,
Eve St. Jones,
Cluster,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Halsall,
Qualms,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Newcleus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Infiniti,
Supertramp,
LL Cool J,
The Fall,
Fluxion,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wolf Eyes,
The American Breed,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ken Boothe,
John Holt,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bad Manners,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.