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 Sierra Leone and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Depeche Mode to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
Toni Rubio,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doors,
Inner City,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Sister Nancy,
Main Source,
Gang Starr,
Suburban Knight,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bill Near,
Frankie Knuckles,
Babytalk,
Mandrill,
Faust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ken Boothe,
Model 500,
Minnie Riperton,
Motorama,
Urselle,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerri Chandler,
PIL,
Stiv Bators,
Liliput,
Lou Christie,
Yaz,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crooked Eye,
The Busters,
Jerry's Kids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nation of Ulysses,
Blancmange,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Monks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roy Ayers,
Chrome,
Parry Music,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Danielle Patucci,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nik Kershaw,
Sonic Youth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Raincoats,
Mission of Burma,
Soul Sonic Force,
Maleditus Sound,
Simply Red,
Aloha Tigers,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.