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 Togo and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lagos.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Johnny Osbourne to the rock 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cowsills,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Moon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roy Ayers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pussy Galore,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Byrd,
Lyres,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
The Vogues,
The Electric Prunes,
Cluster,
Ossler,
Swans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
L. Decosne,
Excepter,
Moss Icon,
Grauzone,
OOIOO,
Neu!,
Don Cherry,
Charles Mingus,
Mad Mike,
Sarah Menescal,
Johnny Clarke,
The Litter,
Ronan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Al Stewart,
The Alarm Clocks,
Average White Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ornette Coleman,
Schoolly D,
Lungfish,
The Divine Comedy,
Yazoo,
Angry Samoans,
Drexciya,
Marine Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
DNA,
Wally Richardson,
Aswad,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Michelle Simonal,
Mandrill,
Marmalade,
Suburban Knight,
Pet Shop Boys,
kango's stein massive,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.