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 Papua New Guinea and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eden Ahbez to the funk 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Kurtis Blow,
Grauzone,
Bronski Beat,
D'Angelo,
Wasted Youth,
Saccharine Trust,
Ituana,
Gang Starr,
Rites of Spring,
Smog,
Von Mondo,
The United States of America,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Neil Young,
X-Ray Spex,
H. Thieme,
Deepchord,
Easy Going,
Tim Buckley,
Iggy Pop,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
Mars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Isaac Hayes,
Bob Dylan,
Bootsy Collins,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Alarm Clocks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Stereo Dub,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang of Four,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Charles Mingus,
Funky Four + One,
Lightning Bolt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Con Funk Shun,
Goldenarms,
The Moleskins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thompson Twins,
The Vogues,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chrome,
The Move,
Dark Day,
The Techniques,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roger Hodgson,
the Swans,
Gong,
Darondo,
the Normal,
Scott Walker,
Newcleus,
Urselle,
Public Enemy,
The Fortunes,
Negative Approach,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.