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 Panama and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1978 at the first Visage 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 Index to the punk 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
R.M.O.,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fall,
Young Marble Giants,
Crime,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Ten City,
Bobby Womack,
The Residents,
The Cowsills,
The Doobie Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Golliwogs,
The Searchers,
Wasted Youth,
Donald Byrd,
the Slits,
Sandy B,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marshall Jefferson,
kango's stein massive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Derrick Morgan,
Matthew Bourne,
Guru Guru,
Ken Boothe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
The Fuzztones,
Crash Course in Science,
Monolake,
New Order,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pantytec,
the Sonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
The Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dennis Brown,
Mars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantaleimon,
Duran Duran,
Cheater Slicks,
Erasure,
Sugar Minott,
Ronan,
Joy Division,
Porter Ricks,
Drexciya,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moss Icon,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.