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 Macedonia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb 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 Pussy Galore to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The Gap Band,
ABBA,
Model 500,
John Lydon,
Fat Boys,
The Barracudas,
The Saints,
Scratch Acid,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Motions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ludus,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Velvet Underground,
Procol Harum,
Roxette,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Sherman,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skriet,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Angels of Light,
The Music Machine,
Urselle,
10cc,
Charles Mingus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Skaos,
Funkadelic,
Malaria!,
Glenn Branca,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
Kenny Larkin,
Animal Collective,
Joe Finger,
The Cowsills,
Deakin,
Neu!,
Silicon Teens,
Motorama,
Soft Cell,
Wings,
Essential Logic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hashim,
Rapeman,
Echospace,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lower 48,
Newcleus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oblivians,
A Certain Ratio,
New Age Steppers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.