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 Tunisia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric Copeland to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tropical Tobacco,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Judy Mowatt,
ABC,
Piero Umiliani,
Popol Vuh,
L. Decosne,
Fugazi,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Sister Nancy,
John Lydon,
Bang On A Can,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Talk Talk,
Ossler,
Nik Kershaw,
Freddie Wadling,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crime,
Quantec,
The Moleskins,
Crooked Eye,
The Grass Roots,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Black Dice,
Davy DMX,
Cymande,
MC5,
The Smoke,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
Dawn Penn,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
Eli Mardock,
Minnie Riperton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
June of 44,
Magma,
Joy Division,
Pantytec,
DJ Style,
One Last Wish,
Siglo XX,
Sonic Youth,
Buzzcocks,
Moebius,
Minor Threat,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
The Motions,
Cameo,
Hardrive,
Black Moon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Television,
Pole,
Gong,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.