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 Azerbaijan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Procol Harum,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Moon,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
Crime,
Accadde A,
John Lydon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Slits,
Lakeside,
John Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
The Young Rascals,
Essential Logic,
Gichy Dan,
Ituana,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
T. Rex,
Sex Pistols,
The Fortunes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Association,
The Stooges,
Joensuu 1685,
CMW,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Sherman,
Scratch Acid,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ludus,
the Slits,
Eli Mardock,
June of 44,
Surgeon,
Tres Demented,
Reagan Youth,
Althea and Donna,
Blancmange,
The Toasters,
The Saints,
The Pretty Things,
The Index,
Bush Tetras,
Rufus Thomas,
Swell Maps,
Blossom Toes,
Outsiders,
F. McDonald,
Audionom,
X-Ray Spex,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.