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 Portugal and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Suicide to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Audionom,
Second Layer,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Khruangbin,
Clear Light,
The Raincoats,
Graham Central Station,
Porter Ricks,
Magazine,
Juan Atkins,
Youth Brigade,
Blossom Toes,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Womack,
Agent Orange,
Severed Heads,
Altered Images,
Camouflage,
Todd Terry,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
Negative Approach,
LL Cool J,
La Düsseldorf,
Quantec,
Silicon Teens,
DJ Sneak,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Martian,
Don Cherry,
The Trojans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Young Marble Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Electric Prunes,
Fugazi,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Parry Music,
Section 25,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
Goldenarms,
Bluetip,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barbara Tucker,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Interpol,
Shuggie Otis,
Make Up,
Robert Wyatt,
Symarip,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grauzone,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.