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 Kazakhstan and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Theoretical Girls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
ABC,
The Mighty Diamonds,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
Archie Shepp,
Warsaw,
Little Man,
Aloha Tigers,
Yellowson,
Amon Düül II,
The Monochrome Set,
Byron Stingily,
Connie Case,
Derrick May,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
K-Klass,
Audionom,
Interpol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
T.S.O.L.,
The Busters,
Josef K,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Gun Club,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anakelly,
Nick Fraelich,
Porter Ricks,
Todd Rundgren,
Bluetip,
The Dirtbombs,
The Associates,
Deakin,
The Velvet Underground,
The Kinks,
Camouflage,
X-Ray Spex,
James White and The Blacks,
Roxy Music,
MDC,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
Marc Almond,
Unrelated Segments,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nirvana,
David Axelrod,
Bizarre Inc.,
Suburban Knight,
The Moody Blues,
Iggy Pop,
Faust,
Wings,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eric B and Rakim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Harry Pussy,
Intrusion,
Talk Talk,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.