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 Romania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South 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 Gang of Four to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
John Cale,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fad Gadget,
Archie Shepp,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Motions,
David McCallum,
Japan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Monks,
Black Sheep,
Wally Richardson,
Andrew Hill,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Star Department,
Henry Cow,
Donny Hathaway,
Quantec,
Oneida,
Babytalk,
Faust,
Aloha Tigers,
La Düsseldorf,
Angry Samoans,
Roy Ayers,
Derrick Morgan,
Panda Bear,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gun Club,
Accadde A,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blake Baxter,
Don Cherry,
Aaron Thompson,
Colin Newman,
John Coltrane,
Scratch Acid,
Scientists,
Lucky Dragons,
Hoover,
the Swans,
Dawn Penn,
Alice Coltrane,
Bush Tetras,
D'Angelo,
The Moleskins,
David Bowie,
R.M.O.,
Buzzcocks,
Joyce Sims,
Oblivians,
The Golliwogs,
David Axelrod,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra,
Tomorrow,
Roxette,
Man Parrish,
Graham Central Station,
Funkadelic,
Sonny Sharrock,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.