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 Sudan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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 Beau Brummels,
Robert Görl,
Faraquet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Barrington Levy,
Joyce Sims,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marshall Jefferson,
Das Ding,
Von Mondo,
New Age Steppers,
Rakim,
The Buckinghams,
Glenn Branca,
OOIOO,
Angry Samoans,
June Days,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Velvet Underground,
The Invisible,
The Techniques,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tears for Fears,
Joey Negro,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Trumans Water,
One Last Wish,
The Trojans,
Severed Heads,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Monochrome Set,
Soulsonic Force,
Crime,
Unrelated Segments,
Harry Pussy,
Sugar Minott,
Howard Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Fear,
Suburban Knight,
Spoonie Gee,
The Wake,
Roger Hodgson,
the Germs,
Boz Scaggs,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smoke,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Robert Hood,
Scion,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Mummies,
Zapp,
Hasil Adkins,
Faust,
Sonny Sharrock,
Easy Going,
Ultravox,
Danielle Patucci,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.