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 Poland and from London.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 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 Althea and Donna to the electroclash 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Fugazi,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Hood,
The Tremeloes,
Q and Not U,
Slick Rick,
FM Einheit,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Boredoms,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aloha Tigers,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Human League,
Ossler,
Fear,
Neu!,
Scion,
Minnie Riperton,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
Juan Atkins,
Moebius,
Shoche,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Buzzcocks,
Dennis Brown,
The Cowsills,
Sex Pistols,
Bauhaus,
Gichy Dan,
Sound Behaviour,
Funky Four + One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
China Crisis,
Davy DMX,
Essential Logic,
Swell Maps,
Clear Light,
Massinfluence,
Delta 5,
Panda Bear,
Surgeon,
the Soft Cell,
The Cure,
Man Eating Sloth,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
The Leaves,
The Detroit Cobras,
Janne Schatter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Royal Trux,
Josef K,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.