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 Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb 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 Visage to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Slick Rick,
Cluster,
John Holt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Unrelated Segments,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
E-Dancer,
Unwound,
Susan Cadogan,
Franke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Saints,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Pretty Things,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brand Nubian,
Ultra Naté,
New Order,
Camouflage,
PIL,
Massinfluence,
The Toasters,
Gang of Four,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lungfish,
Reuben Wilson,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Moebius,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gories,
Bang On A Can,
The Invisible,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scratch Acid,
Tommy Roe,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cramps,
Man Parrish,
A Certain Ratio,
Grauzone,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marine Girls,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül II,
Pylon,
Liliput,
Motorama,
Prince Buster,
Television,
Bluetip,
Radiohead,
Eli Mardock,
Black Sheep,
Sugar Minott,
Audionom,
Tres Demented,
Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon.
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.