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 Slovakia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator 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 Bizarre Inc. to the punk 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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Suburban Knight,
48th St. Collective,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kenny Larkin,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Kayak,
Wally Richardson,
The Young Rascals,
The Dirtbombs,
Tears for Fears,
Iggy Pop,
Warsaw,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doors,
The Grass Roots,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mr. Review,
The Fall,
The Fortunes,
Adolescents,
Morten Harket,
Livin' Joy,
China Crisis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Inner City,
Unwound,
Angry Samoans,
Sun Ra,
Kurtis Blow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blake Baxter,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kas Product,
X-102,
The Barracudas,
Absolute Body Control,
Buzzcocks,
FM Einheit,
Fad Gadget,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Godley & Creme,
Gong,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bill Near,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Spoonie Gee,
The Golliwogs,
Michelle Simonal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Josef K,
Von Mondo,
Procol Harum,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Trojans,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.