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 Yemen and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 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 The Birthday Party 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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mark Hollis,
Heaven 17,
Popol Vuh,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Idris Muhammad,
Amon Düül,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rufus Thomas,
Accadde A,
Eddi Front,
The Tremeloes,
Sällskapet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New Age Steppers,
Albert Ayler,
Nas,
Deadbeat,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flamin' Groovies,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Roy Ayers,
Quando Quango,
Swell Maps,
The Selecter,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Jerry's Kids,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Associates,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wire,
Black Flag,
Minny Pops,
Ohio Players,
Cameo,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Association,
Duran Duran,
Donald Byrd,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Agent Orange,
Qualms,
Derrick Morgan,
The Birthday Party,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Barrington Levy,
Gabor Szabo,
Chris & Cosey,
ABC,
Arthur Verocai,
Neu!,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lower 48,
Piero Umiliani,
Sly & The Family Stone,
X-102,
Terrestrial Tones,
New Order,
Ice-T,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.