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 Andorra and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Idris Muhammad to the disco 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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Chris Corsano,
Arthur Verocai,
T.S.O.L.,
Ken Boothe,
Section 25,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Standells,
Man Eating Sloth,
Interpol,
Excepter,
Blancmange,
World's Most,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roger Hodgson,
The Divine Comedy,
Harry Pussy,
Boredoms,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Sheep,
Sight & Sound,
the Sonics,
Absolute Body Control,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Barracudas,
The Move,
Flash Fearless,
Fat Boys,
John Foxx,
Davy DMX,
Ituana,
Wasted Youth,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mantronix,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Spoonie Gee,
Thompson Twins,
The Fortunes,
Alison Limerick,
cv313,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash,
Man Parrish,
John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Victims,
Scan 7,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Golliwogs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The J.B.'s,
Throbbing Gristle,
Max Romeo,
Ohio Players,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Pus,
MDC,
Hoover,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.