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 Uganda and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord 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 Hashim to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rekid,
The Pop Group,
cv313,
Unwound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cabaret Voltaire,
World's Most,
Avey Tare,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Howard Jones,
Tommy Roe,
Monolake,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Christie,
Laurel Aitken,
Soul II Soul,
The Black Dice,
the Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
New York Dolls,
Flash Fearless,
Quando Quango,
Sixth Finger,
Roxette,
The United States of America,
Maleditus Sound,
Lyres,
Letta Mbulu,
Q65,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Robert Hood,
Heaven 17,
Magazine,
Nik Kershaw,
The Zeros,
Hoover,
Marvin Gaye,
Essential Logic,
The Doors,
Zapp,
Yellowson,
Throbbing Gristle,
B.T. Express,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Byrd,
Goldenarms,
The Mojo Men,
Public Enemy,
Interpol,
David Bowie,
Vladislav Delay,
The Sound,
Aloha Tigers,
The Knickerbockers,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Infiniti,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.