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 Tuvalu and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the dance 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Reagan Youth,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Maurizio,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Star Department,
John Cale,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jawbox,
The Stooges,
Johnny Clarke,
Dark Day,
Soft Machine,
The Monochrome Set,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Loose Ends,
Groovy Waters,
Newcleus,
New York Dolls,
Lungfish,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Camouflage,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pantytec,
Make Up,
Joy Division,
Quadrant,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cluster,
Lalo Schifrin,
June Days,
Bizarre Inc.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Adolescents,
Gang Starr,
Wolf Eyes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Görl,
Ultra Naté,
Roy Ayers,
Donald Byrd,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scientists,
Spoonie Gee,
K-Klass,
Barry Ungar,
UT,
U.S. Maple,
Zapp,
The J.B.'s,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sound Behaviour,
Japan,
Sällskapet,
Deadbeat,
The Monks,
X-Ray Spex,
D'Angelo,
Brothers Johnson,
Aswad,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.