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 Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Piero Umiliani to the crunk 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Lou Christie,
Slick Rick,
Heaven 17,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Reuben Wilson,
Audionom,
Rites of Spring,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sparks,
Negative Approach,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Anthony Braxton,
Chris Corsano,
Ronnie Foster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Main Source,
Bizarre Inc.,
Man Parrish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Whodini,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Can,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blackbyrds,
Toni Rubio,
The Tremeloes,
JFA,
Country Teasers,
ABC,
Roy Ayers,
La Düsseldorf,
Rod Modell,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bob Dylan,
Sonic Youth,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang of Four,
Electric Prunes,
Mars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jacques Brel,
Janne Schatter,
Mandrill,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Symarip,
Lungfish,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
Black Flag,
DNA,
This Heat,
Mantronix,
The New Christs,
The Seeds,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.