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 Liechtenstein and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mighty Diamonds to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Warren Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Donald Byrd,
Eddi Front,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
CMW,
Schoolly D,
Babytalk,
Faraquet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
F. McDonald,
Thee Headcoats,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Inner City,
World's Most,
Monolake,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eli Mardock,
Yazoo,
Barry Ungar,
The Human League,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pulsallama,
Soul II Soul,
Scan 7,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Birthday Party,
Television Personalities,
James White and The Blacks,
Althea and Donna,
Heaven 17,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deadbeat,
The Durutti Column,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brick,
The Divine Comedy,
Scott Walker,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Slits,
Excepter,
This Heat,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Popol Vuh,
Camouflage,
Half Japanese,
Leonard Cohen,
The American Breed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.