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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 808 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 Banda Bassotti to the electroclash 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Sex Pistols,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Inner City,
Funkadelic,
ABBA,
The Gap Band,
The Smoke,
Ralphi Rosario,
Chris Corsano,
Sugar Minott,
ABC,
The Last Poets,
Amazonics,
The Mojo Men,
The Vogues,
Roger Hodgson,
Masters at Work,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Shoche,
The Moleskins,
Gang of Four,
Godley & Creme,
the Normal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Moebius,
Wolf Eyes,
Terry Callier,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Intrusion,
James Chance & The Contortions,
James White and The Blacks,
Rotary Connection,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Busters,
Mo-Dettes,
The Cramps,
Chrome,
The Victims,
Andrew Hill,
Derrick May,
Janne Schatter,
Cybotron,
Arcadia,
Q and Not U,
UT,
Panda Bear,
Main Source,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Wyatt,
The Black Dice,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Morten Harket,
Joe Finger,
Rod Modell,
Eric Copeland,
Wally Richardson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.