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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Dead C to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Bad Manners,
Cymande,
Mandrill,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Patti Smith,
the Germs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Green,
Carl Craig,
Joyce Sims,
Crooked Eye,
The Young Rascals,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dirtbombs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glenn Branca,
Royal Trux,
David Bowie,
Bobby Womack,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
Niagra,
Thee Headcoats,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Durutti Column,
Alton Ellis,
Bootsy Collins,
Dave Gahan,
Alison Limerick,
Chris Corsano,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun City Girls,
LL Cool J,
Ronnie Foster,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
Bob Dylan,
Can,
Metal Thangz,
Soulsonic Force,
Blancmange,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sonics,
Stetsasonic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Alphaville,
Soul II Soul,
Infiniti,
the Swans,
Pierre Henry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rhythm & Sound,
Terry Callier,
Barbara Tucker,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Y Pants,
Television Personalities,
The Toasters,
Ice-T,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.