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 Guinea-Bissau and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Todd Terry to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Ludus,
Unrelated Segments,
the Normal,
Massinfluence,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish,
Magma,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
Skaos,
Ronan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Rundgren,
Junior Murvin,
The Move,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Los Fastidios,
The Zeros,
Television Personalities,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Selecter,
Neu!,
Joy Division,
Mr. Review,
Public Enemy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Monochrome Set,
Aswad,
Dead Boys,
Mad Mike,
The Searchers,
KRS-One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kas Product,
Wire,
The Slackers,
Black Bananas,
Graham Central Station,
Steve Hackett,
Idris Muhammad,
Underground Resistance,
Lower 48,
Hasil Adkins,
The J.B.'s,
The Neon Judgement,
The Pretty Things,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Kevin Saunderson,
Vainqueur,
Skriet,
The Fugs,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kurtis Blow,
Pagans,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.