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 Sierra Leone and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 The Sound to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
EPMD,
Lalann,
Bill Wells,
Bronski Beat,
Sun Ra,
Patti Smith,
The Happenings,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultra Naté,
The Dead C,
Can,
The Saints,
Absolute Body Control,
Letta Mbulu,
The Black Dice,
D'Angelo,
The Move,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Duran Duran,
The Pop Group,
Spoonie Gee,
Traffic Nightmare,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Vogues,
Warsaw,
MC5,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Prunes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Suburban Knight,
K-Klass,
Vladislav Delay,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Althea and Donna,
Joey Negro,
The Shadows of Knight,
Chrome,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Neon Judgement,
Depeche Mode,
Infiniti,
X-Ray Spex,
Janne Schatter,
Johnny Clarke,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grauzone,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Bananas,
Albert Ayler,
Ken Boothe,
Minnie Riperton,
Soul II Soul,
Drexciya,
Slick Rick,
Wasted Youth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fela Kuti,
Prince Buster,
Skriet,
The Names,
Television Personalities,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.