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 Serbia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba 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 the Human League to the electroclash 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Raincoats,
Das Ding,
Tim Buckley,
Amon Düül,
Pussy Galore,
Severed Heads,
LL Cool J,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Funkadelic,
The Fall,
Mad Mike,
Monolake,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Piero Umiliani,
Ituana,
Stiv Bators,
Los Fastidios,
Country Teasers,
Altered Images,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Sherman,
Sound Behaviour,
Drexciya,
Camberwell Now,
New Order,
Procol Harum,
La Düsseldorf,
Danielle Patucci,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Angels of Light,
Jacob Miller,
Soft Machine,
Gerry Rafferty,
Babytalk,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bronski Beat,
Rekid,
Crash Course in Science,
Nils Olav,
Fat Boys,
Zapp,
the Germs,
Wolf Eyes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Darondo,
Can,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mark Hollis,
Soft Cell,
The Buckinghams,
T. Rex,
The Mojo Men,
Interpol,
Tubeway Army,
Silicon Teens,
Funky Four + One,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
A Certain Ratio,
OOIOO,
Jeru the Damaja,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.