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 Gabon and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Associates to the disco 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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Johnny Clarke,
The Cure,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bizarre Inc.,
These Immortal Souls,
Todd Terry,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott Heron,
David Bowie,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
Desert Stars,
Icehouse,
OOIOO,
Derrick Morgan,
Flipper,
Technova,
Bang On A Can,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
Black Pus,
The Leaves,
The Names,
Bobby Womack,
Laurel Aitken,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rapeman,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Starr,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
The Motions,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Skatalites,
The Kinks,
Subhumans,
Colin Newman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ronnie Foster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Symarip,
Ponytail,
Curtis Mayfield,
Index,
Slave,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Hasil Adkins,
Al Stewart,
Yellowson,
Make Up,
Scientists,
The Victims,
Magazine,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.