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 Zambia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet 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 Rakim to the funk 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Susan Cadogan,
kango's stein massive,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Mantronix,
The Remains,
The Red Krayola,
The Monks,
Matthew Bourne,
Sound Behaviour,
Mars,
Malaria!,
Joey Negro,
Arab on Radar,
Dark Day,
Make Up,
Buzzcocks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Infiniti,
Camouflage,
The Durutti Column,
June Days,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Von Mondo,
X-101,
The Toasters,
Subhumans,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wasted Youth,
Brand Nubian,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Invisible,
Audionom,
Peter & Gordon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Youth Brigade,
Amon Düül,
Skriet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Smog,
Motorama,
AZ,
Chris & Cosey,
Amazonics,
Underground Resistance,
Nils Olav,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pulsallama,
Essential Logic,
Country Teasers,
Basic Channel,
Blossom Toes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Shuggie Otis,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.