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 Belize and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 The Electric Prunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
John Holt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Knickerbockers,
L. Decosne,
Cymande,
Whodini,
Fugazi,
U.S. Maple,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Byrd,
Zero Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Pierre Henry,
Yaz,
Dave Gahan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Divine Comedy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minny Pops,
The Beau Brummels,
Brick,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Gang Dance,
Spandau Ballet,
Matthew Bourne,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sonics,
Howard Jones,
The Mojo Men,
The Pretty Things,
The Angels of Light,
Scan 7,
Wire,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joyce Sims,
E-Dancer,
Glenn Branca,
Letta Mbulu,
Marvin Gaye,
JFA,
LL Cool J,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kerri Chandler,
Oneida,
These Immortal Souls,
Accadde A,
Ronan,
The Golliwogs,
Joy Division,
Bobby Womack,
Agent Orange,
Barbara Tucker,
Bauhaus,
Dark Day,
The Misunderstood,
Sam Rivers,
Chrome,
Scott Walker,
Severed Heads,
Bad Manners,
Cal Tjader,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.