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 Mauritius and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Neu! to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bizarre Inc. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Pagans,
Davy DMX,
Country Teasers,
These Immortal Souls,
The Slits,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Walker Brothers,
Joe Finger,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lucky Dragons,
Barrington Levy,
Deadbeat,
the Human League,
Minutemen,
The Fortunes,
Sugar Minott,
Lower 48,
The Star Department,
Kenny Larkin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Section 25,
8 Eyed Spy,
Franke,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Charles Mingus,
Bad Manners,
ABBA,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Banda Bassotti,
Sparks,
Joe Smooth,
Aural Exciters,
The Buckinghams,
Fela Kuti,
Spandau Ballet,
Index,
the Normal,
Underground Resistance,
Zero Boys,
Masters at Work,
Aswad,
Iggy Pop,
The Trojans,
PIL,
Avey Tare,
Cameo,
Leonard Cohen,
U.S. Maple,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aaron Thompson,
Joensuu 1685,
Unrelated Segments,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ossler,
Don Cherry,
Fad Gadget,
Con Funk Shun,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.