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 Fiji and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ 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 Heaven 17 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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Public Enemy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Todd Rundgren,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
K-Klass,
Eric Copeland,
The Electric Prunes,
Harmonia,
Ronnie Foster,
The Real Kids,
Guru Guru,
Black Moon,
Crime,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roger Hodgson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ludus,
Los Fastidios,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cowsills,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monolake,
Cheater Slicks,
The Move,
The Moody Blues,
Lalann,
Ice-T,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-101,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Buckinghams,
Oneida,
The Young Rascals,
Cymande,
Qualms,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
New York Dolls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minutemen,
Yazoo,
Das Ding,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scratch Acid,
Jeru the Damaja,
Juan Atkins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Smog,
Prince Buster,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.