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 Argentina and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 mellotron 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 Deakin to the disco 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
The Knickerbockers,
Eve St. Jones,
Deepchord,
Crime,
Henry Cow,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet,
Rites of Spring,
Deakin,
Jeff Mills,
One Last Wish,
Bill Wells,
The Young Rascals,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cramps,
Kenny Larkin,
Delta 5,
Byron Stingily,
Neil Young,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rakim,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Pus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sandy B,
Ten City,
The Tremeloes,
Mandrill,
Robert Hood,
Severed Heads,
China Crisis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Motions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hoover,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David McCallum,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric Dolphy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Todd Terry,
Wasted Youth,
Loose Ends,
Angry Samoans,
Au Pairs,
R.M.O.,
ABBA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Divine Comedy,
Stiv Bators,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Count Five,
cv313,
David Axelrod,
Hashim,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.