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 Syria and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispy Ambulance to the crunk 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Essential Logic,
Cymande,
Clear Light,
Symarip,
Ossler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Bowie,
Eric Copeland,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Accadde A,
Ponytail,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-101,
Magma,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Misunderstood,
The Buckinghams,
Nick Fraelich,
The Move,
Ludus,
The Dirtbombs,
X-Ray Spex,
Blancmange,
Echospace,
Cal Tjader,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bizarre Inc.,
Visage,
T.S.O.L.,
Tommy Roe,
Das Ding,
Livin' Joy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lungfish,
Wire,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Martian,
Soul Sonic Force,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sonics,
Hoover,
The Mummies,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Altered Images,
Fugazi,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jacob Miller,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Stereo Dub,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Popol Vuh,
Funky Four + One,
Derrick May,
Mad Mike,
Pagans,
Young Marble Giants,
Marvin Gaye,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.