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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barrington Levy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
kango's stein massive,
Angry Samoans,
Aloha Tigers,
Scion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scrapy,
the Bar-Kays,
Surgeon,
Godley & Creme,
Blancmange,
Avey Tare,
Maurizio,
Ultravox,
the Association,
E-Dancer,
Technova,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Womack,
Erasure,
Gang Green,
The Monks,
Ituana,
Crooked Eye,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
Piero Umiliani,
New Age Steppers,
Quadrant,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Velvet Underground,
The Pretty Things,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joe Finger,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Monks,
Agitation Free,
The Dead C,
Radiohead,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Iggy Pop,
The Star Department,
Isaac Hayes,
Nico,
Joe Smooth,
Audionom,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Yellowson,
K-Klass,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Fire Engines,
The Names,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Max Romeo,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.