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 Angola and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Warren Ellis 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Livin' Joy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sonic Youth,
Blancmange,
Pet Shop Boys,
R.M.O.,
Nico,
Sarah Menescal,
The Slackers,
Roxy Music,
Mandrill,
Niagra,
Funky Four + One,
The Cure,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Stooges,
Scan 7,
Althea and Donna,
Mo-Dettes,
Metal Thangz,
Vladislav Delay,
The Knickerbockers,
FM Einheit,
The Index,
T.S.O.L.,
Pere Ubu,
Sixth Finger,
the Swans,
The Dead C,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scion,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pantytec,
Smog,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maleditus Sound,
Tres Demented,
Rotary Connection,
Minutemen,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Iggy Pop,
Mr. Review,
Crime,
One Last Wish,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Smiths,
Prince Buster,
Deakin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Darondo,
The Count Five,
Derrick May,
Fugazi,
Agent Orange,
U.S. Maple,
Franke,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.