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 Haiti and from Cairo.
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 Cairo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 '70s 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 R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
The Names,
The Neon Judgement,
Fatback Band,
The J.B.'s,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pole,
Kaleidoscope,
Joe Smooth,
The Searchers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Drexciya,
Fat Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Basic Channel,
the Association,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gang of Four,
Grauzone,
The Cowsills,
Colin Newman,
The Fugs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
F. McDonald,
Panda Bear,
Clear Light,
Vainqueur,
Scratch Acid,
The Star Department,
This Heat,
Mark Hollis,
Gang Green,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wire,
Aural Exciters,
Dave Gahan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Youth Brigade,
ABBA,
Moss Icon,
Sugar Minott,
Delon & Dalcan,
Roxy Music,
Drive Like Jehu,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Selecter,
New Order,
The Victims,
The Blackbyrds,
Surgeon,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Pus,
Bauhaus,
The Angels of Light,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scion,
Adolescents,
Fluxion,
Prince Buster,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.