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 Malta and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kenny Larkin to the rap 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
The Mojo Men,
The Cowsills,
The Dirtbombs,
Das Ding,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Andrew Hill,
Brass Construction,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Little Man,
Make Up,
Jawbox,
Malaria!,
The Mummies,
The Index,
Goldenarms,
Rod Modell,
Tomorrow,
B.T. Express,
John Lydon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare,
Drexciya,
Bobby Sherman,
John Holt,
Babytalk,
Bootsy Collins,
Eric Dolphy,
The Misunderstood,
Eden Ahbez,
The Star Department,
Colin Newman,
Television Personalities,
Gang of Four,
MDC,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Charles Mingus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Flag,
Marc Almond,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Average White Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ohio Players,
Pere Ubu,
Blossom Toes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crooked Eye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rotary Connection,
Marmalade,
The Busters,
Sound Behaviour,
Television,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deakin,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Techniques,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DJ Sneak,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.