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 Jordan and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Blancmange to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
The Dead C,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Masters at Work,
Interpol,
Nick Fraelich,
X-Ray Spex,
The Evens,
a-ha,
Goldenarms,
Todd Terry,
Bootsy Collins,
A Certain Ratio,
Zapp,
Junior Murvin,
Joey Negro,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Almond,
The Index,
Black Pus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Misunderstood,
Maleditus Sound,
David Bowie,
Donny Hathaway,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Rapeman,
Sun Ra,
PIL,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Godley & Creme,
Warren Ellis,
John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Easy Going,
Basic Channel,
Pagans,
Minor Threat,
The Standells,
Howard Jones,
Derrick May,
Marine Girls,
The Techniques,
Bronski Beat,
Skriet,
Eurythmics,
Guru Guru,
Sister Nancy,
The Monks,
Camouflage,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Leaves,
Max Romeo,
The Monochrome Set,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lou Christie,
Ultra Naté,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.