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 Fiji and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes 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 The Neon Judgement to the rap 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dead C,
The Angels of Light,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dorothy Ashby,
Visage,
Cal Tjader,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Carl Craig,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Metal Thangz,
Fela Kuti,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Mandrill,
Rosa Yemen,
the Soft Cell,
Japan,
Gabor Szabo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
Hashim,
Ken Boothe,
Buzzcocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Slackers,
Faraquet,
Deakin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultravox,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ronan,
Second Layer,
Theoretical Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Franke,
Magazine,
Fat Boys,
Mr. Review,
Quadrant,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Finger,
The Alarm Clocks,
Urselle,
Peter & Gordon,
Popol Vuh,
The Red Krayola,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Country Teasers,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Womack,
Sister Nancy,
The Busters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Althea and Donna,
Duran Duran,
Warsaw,
Avey Tare,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.