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 St Lucia and from Glasgow.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Winnipeg.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Starr to the techno 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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Leonard Cohen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
Black Pus,
Popol Vuh,
The Last Poets,
Big Daddy Kane,
Graham Central Station,
Barclay James Harvest,
June Days,
The Names,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
L. Decosne,
Shuggie Otis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Raincoats,
The Move,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris & Cosey,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The J.B.'s,
Bush Tetras,
David McCallum,
The Knickerbockers,
Hashim,
The Neon Judgement,
These Immortal Souls,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Foxx,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun Ra,
Terry Callier,
Magazine,
Rakim,
Eric Copeland,
Reagan Youth,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
Bill Wells,
F. McDonald,
World's Most,
Altered Images,
Radio Birdman,
The Dead C,
Cymande,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Neu!,
The Fire Engines,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
Pharoah Sanders,
Skriet,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.