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 Bahrain and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Lightning Bolt to the rap 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
Cybotron,
Bronski Beat,
The Red Krayola,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Machine,
Magma,
Hot Snakes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Theoretical Girls,
June Days,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Susan Cadogan,
Minnie Riperton,
Blossom Toes,
Gong,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Goldenarms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grauzone,
Pere Ubu,
Kenny Larkin,
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Robert Wyatt,
Sugar Minott,
Duran Duran,
K-Klass,
Ponytail,
Cameo,
Porter Ricks,
The Birthday Party,
Second Layer,
Eric Dolphy,
Qualms,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
Ronan,
Glambeats Corp.,
10cc,
Harmonia,
Heaven 17,
Moebius,
The Gap Band,
Tears for Fears,
Morten Harket,
Marshall Jefferson,
Peter and Kerry,
Sällskapet,
Godley & Creme,
Skriet,
Archie Shepp,
Stetsasonic,
Depeche Mode,
This Heat,
Hasil Adkins,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Unwound,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.