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 Burkina and from Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
The Litter,
Roy Ayers,
Pole,
Bronski Beat,
Skarface,
Model 500,
kango's stein massive,
The Vogues,
OOIOO,
Aaron Thompson,
Lyres,
Maleditus Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Connie Case,
The Zeros,
The Martian,
Pantaleimon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fatback Band,
The Motions,
The Wake,
Neu!,
Intrusion,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gang of Four,
Toni Rubio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nils Olav,
Icehouse,
Isaac Hayes,
Dawn Penn,
Flipper,
Derrick May,
Robert Görl,
The Beau Brummels,
Warsaw,
Newcleus,
The Gories,
The Moody Blues,
Pagans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
David Bowie,
Bush Tetras,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobby Byrd,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marvin Gaye,
Parry Music,
Saccharine Trust,
Half Japanese,
Wolf Eyes,
Crooked Eye,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Bananas,
Albert Ayler,
Loose Ends,
June of 44,
Matthew Bourne,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.