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 Mali and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Underground Resistance to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim 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?
Mr. Review,
Royal Trux,
Scan 7,
Swans,
Pussy Galore,
the Soft Cell,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Silicon Teens,
The Tremeloes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marc Almond,
Technova,
Carl Craig,
Wasted Youth,
Michelle Simonal,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Massinfluence,
Fat Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
The Martian,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
New Order,
Fluxion,
Severed Heads,
Moss Icon,
The Golliwogs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Heaven 17,
Freddie Wadling,
Banda Bassotti,
Pantytec,
Suicide,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brothers Johnson,
Negative Approach,
Pagans,
Excepter,
Gang Starr,
Sixth Finger,
Derrick May,
Boredoms,
Spandau Ballet,
Minutemen,
OOIOO,
Mo-Dettes,
Deakin,
June Days,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Vogues,
Terrestrial Tones,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Masters at Work,
Amon Düül,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Sherman,
Ponytail,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.