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 Cameroon and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare 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 Freddie Wadling to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Seeds,
Bootsy Collins,
Spandau Ballet,
Minor Threat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Angels of Light,
Lindisfarne,
Sugar Minott,
Tom Boy,
Wasted Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Fluxion,
The Mummies,
Intrusion,
The Gladiators,
JFA,
The Fire Engines,
Todd Terry,
Circle Jerks,
The Leaves,
The Birthday Party,
Mad Mike,
Nico,
Los Fastidios,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
Metal Thangz,
Alphaville,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Holt,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Womack,
Fat Boys,
Godley & Creme,
Black Moon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Count Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deepchord,
Qualms,
The Fugs,
La Düsseldorf,
David Bowie,
Visage,
Newcleus,
The Searchers,
Zero Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Five Americans,
Bizarre Inc.,
Organ,
Pussy Galore,
Eli Mardock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.