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 South Sudan and from New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Chris & Cosey to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
John Holt,
Simply Red,
The Selecter,
Babytalk,
Magma,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gong,
Goldenarms,
The Music Machine,
Visage,
Harry Pussy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bronski Beat,
Henry Cow,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers,
Ossler,
Dark Day,
The Zeros,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eurythmics,
The Five Americans,
Malaria!,
Icehouse,
The Red Krayola,
Spoonie Gee,
Ten City,
Ohio Players,
The Sisters of Mercy,
New Age Steppers,
Cameo,
DJ Style,
Chrome,
Index,
Flamin' Groovies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Derrick Morgan,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Amon Düül II,
Quando Quango,
Brand Nubian,
The Modern Lovers,
Sonic Youth,
Bauhaus,
The Moody Blues,
The Offenders,
Blancmange,
Anakelly,
Q and Not U,
LL Cool J,
Minor Threat,
Alphaville,
Camouflage,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.