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 Congo and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Ossler to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Soul II Soul,
Morten Harket,
Bill Near,
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
The Residents,
The Slackers,
Dual Sessions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Red Krayola,
Deakin,
Absolute Body Control,
Lakeside,
Max Romeo,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lungfish,
Robert Görl,
Kayak,
Gichy Dan,
The Gladiators,
Royal Trux,
Carl Craig,
Qualms,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Buckinghams,
Jeff Mills,
Ituana,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Motions,
The Smiths,
The Grass Roots,
Nico,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Doors,
The Real Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
The United States of America,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harmonia,
Bobby Sherman,
Marvin Gaye,
Ice-T,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radiohead,
A Certain Ratio,
Crime,
Sun City Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Amon Düül,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tres Demented,
Joe Smooth,
The Monochrome Set,
Big Daddy Kane,
FM Einheit,
The American Breed,
Smog,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.