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 Belarus and from Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Robert Görl to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
F. McDonald,
The Cowsills,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Blues Magoos,
Rotary Connection,
MDC,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bill Near,
Ice-T,
The Skatalites,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cure,
Pantytec,
Lee Hazlewood,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Isaac Hayes,
Inner City,
Motorama,
Connie Case,
Quantec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Remains,
Harpers Bizarre,
Warren Ellis,
Pole,
The Seeds,
The Durutti Column,
Warsaw,
The Grass Roots,
Jacob Miller,
Eurythmics,
Public Enemy,
The Buckinghams,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fuzztones,
Tomorrow,
Toni Rubio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Parry Music,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Byron Stingily,
kango's stein massive,
Jerry's Kids,
Hardrive,
The Slackers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Soft Cell,
Scrapy,
Zapp,
JFA,
Alton Ellis,
Ohio Players,
Deakin,
Underground Resistance,
Subhumans,
Archie Shepp,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.