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 Tunisia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 David Bowie 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 EPMD to the rap 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Laurel Aitken,
K-Klass,
Hashim,
The Fire Engines,
Aloha Tigers,
Vainqueur,
The Blues Magoos,
Q65,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Porter Ricks,
Television,
the Swans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mark Hollis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Iggy Pop,
Faraquet,
X-102,
Depeche Mode,
The Evens,
Wally Richardson,
Derrick May,
Mantronix,
Pantaleimon,
Liliput,
F. McDonald,
Surgeon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pussy Galore,
Massinfluence,
Accadde A,
Interpol,
Youth Brigade,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fall,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Monks,
Schoolly D,
Make Up,
Quando Quango,
X-Ray Spex,
the Slits,
Thompson Twins,
Swell Maps,
the Normal,
Barbara Tucker,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Supertramp,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barrington Levy,
Ponytail,
MDC,
Henry Cow,
The Music Machine,
Yaz,
The Names,
Ludus,
R.M.O.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Selecter,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.