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 Mauritania and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
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 arpeggiator 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 China Crisis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Inner City,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Goldenarms,
Zero Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
Average White Band,
Dawn Penn,
Warren Ellis,
Ultra Naté,
Charles Mingus,
Khruangbin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bush Tetras,
the Association,
Agitation Free,
Toni Rubio,
Byron Stingily,
Sugar Minott,
Black Flag,
Mission of Burma,
World's Most,
The Monochrome Set,
Don Cherry,
Matthew Halsall,
David McCallum,
Jawbox,
Sällskapet,
Schoolly D,
Con Funk Shun,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Swans,
Matthew Bourne,
Alphaville,
Bizarre Inc.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jacob Miller,
Terry Callier,
Marvin Gaye,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Martian,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gun Club,
Das Ding,
Mars,
Y Pants,
H. Thieme,
Motorama,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dave Clark Five,
ABBA,
Nils Olav,
Alison Limerick,
Minor Threat,
Grey Daturas,
EPMD,
Colin Newman,
The Pop Group,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.