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 Malaysia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Mandrill,
Deakin,
Grandmaster Flash,
FM Einheit,
Bush Tetras,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Trojans,
Altered Images,
Sexual Harrassment,
D'Angelo,
Erykah Badu,
Suicide,
Mission of Burma,
Marc Almond,
Metal Thangz,
Kas Product,
Country Teasers,
Drexciya,
Nation of Ulysses,
Skarface,
The Standells,
Judy Mowatt,
Drive Like Jehu,
Desert Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thompson Twins,
Minnie Riperton,
Warsaw,
Sixth Finger,
Gastr Del Sol,
A Certain Ratio,
Brothers Johnson,
Derrick Morgan,
Faust,
Bad Manners,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pere Ubu,
cv313,
Model 500,
The Black Dice,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Bananas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crash Course in Science,
Silicon Teens,
Lyres,
Eli Mardock,
Swans,
ABBA,
Popol Vuh,
Dawn Penn,
the Sonics,
Jacob Miller,
PIL,
Das Ding,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.