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 Finland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Thee Headcoats to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Michelle Simonal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Suburban Knight,
Joe Smooth,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Count Five,
Matthew Bourne,
kango's stein massive,
The Seeds,
The Offenders,
Dead Boys,
Camouflage,
the Slits,
Monolake,
Flipper,
Jawbox,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kurtis Blow,
Depeche Mode,
Au Pairs,
The Dirtbombs,
Johnny Clarke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amon Düül,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dorothy Ashby,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
Sound Behaviour,
Fluxion,
Sam Rivers,
Zapp,
Black Pus,
The Tremeloes,
Interpol,
Ornette Coleman,
The Detroit Cobras,
The United States of America,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Infiniti,
cv313,
Althea and Donna,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Kinks,
Oblivians,
Wolf Eyes,
Alphaville,
KRS-One,
Soft Cell,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bronski Beat,
Animal Collective,
Black Bananas,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Raincoats,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eli Mardock,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.