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 the UAE and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 Whodini to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wasted Youth,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Fort Wilson Riot,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Al Stewart,
The Stooges,
John Coltrane,
The Durutti Column,
Amazonics,
The Cramps,
Royal Trux,
Rufus Thomas,
Spoonie Gee,
Rod Modell,
The Evens,
Severed Heads,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pole,
Pylon,
Marvin Gaye,
Organ,
The Wake,
Althea and Donna,
The Fall,
Fluxion,
Fela Kuti,
Ronnie Foster,
K-Klass,
Nik Kershaw,
The Happenings,
Bob Dylan,
Jawbox,
Yazoo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
One Last Wish,
Gang Green,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Womack,
Steve Hackett,
The Fuzztones,
Susan Cadogan,
the Association,
Lebanon Hanover,
Half Japanese,
Au Pairs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Josef K,
Gang of Four,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Darondo,
Ultra Naté,
Rakim,
Sun Ra,
The Neon Judgement,
Mission of Burma,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.