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 Jordan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 linndrum 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Simply Red,
Khruangbin,
Soul Sonic Force,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lightning Bolt,
Ken Boothe,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Laurel Aitken,
Ice-T,
Cybotron,
X-102,
La Düsseldorf,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare,
The Dave Clark Five,
Royal Trux,
A Certain Ratio,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Chris Corsano,
Supertramp,
Fugazi,
The Five Americans,
Symarip,
Eric Copeland,
Judy Mowatt,
The Busters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Agitation Free,
The Real Kids,
the Human League,
The Birthday Party,
World's Most,
Outsiders,
Radiopuhelimet,
Monolake,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Talk Talk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Infiniti,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Thee Headcoats,
Dual Sessions,
T. Rex,
Boredoms,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eddi Front,
Swell Maps,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scott Walker,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deepchord,
Circle Jerks,
Sandy B,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skriet,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.