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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gang of Four to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Chris & Cosey,
Index,
the Association,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Y Pants,
Marmalade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Subhumans,
F. McDonald,
Anakelly,
Connie Case,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bill Near,
Bobby Sherman,
Lucky Dragons,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Leonard Cohen,
Marine Girls,
Tears for Fears,
The Wake,
EPMD,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tim Buckley,
Dawn Penn,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arthur Verocai,
Soulsonic Force,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Al Stewart,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Susan Cadogan,
Pussy Galore,
Freddie Wadling,
MDC,
Deadbeat,
Nick Fraelich,
Alphaville,
Brothers Johnson,
Quadrant,
Matthew Halsall,
Ice-T,
John Lydon,
Zapp,
cv313,
Mr. Review,
The Mummies,
Basic Channel,
Magazine,
Rufus Thomas,
Hoover,
Accadde A,
The Invisible,
Todd Rundgren,
Massinfluence,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.