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 Brunei and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
T.S.O.L.,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
Pantytec,
Skaos,
Zero Boys,
Tim Buckley,
Boredoms,
Judy Mowatt,
The United States of America,
DJ Sneak,
Scratch Acid,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Country Teasers,
Model 500,
The Five Americans,
Bronski Beat,
Neu!,
Eurythmics,
Dave Gahan,
The Raincoats,
Mandrill,
Mark Hollis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jacques Brel,
Bob Dylan,
Scott Walker,
D'Angelo,
Lalann,
Crispian St. Peters,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cowsills,
Visage,
FM Einheit,
Derrick May,
Neil Young,
Glenn Branca,
Nico,
Sister Nancy,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Mills,
The Last Poets,
La Düsseldorf,
Cymande,
The Human League,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nirvana,
Groovy Waters,
The Move,
Wings,
OOIOO,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.