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 Latvia and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Niagra to the electroclash 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Amazonics,
Faust,
John Holt,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eli Mardock,
Zapp,
Magazine,
Wally Richardson,
R.M.O.,
Skaos,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Popol Vuh,
Pussy Galore,
Arcadia,
Dawn Penn,
Flash Fearless,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nils Olav,
The Busters,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
Johnny Osbourne,
OOIOO,
Desert Stars,
JFA,
Clear Light,
Vainqueur,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Maurizio,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pierre Henry,
Colin Newman,
Yaz,
China Crisis,
The Last Poets,
The New Christs,
Eden Ahbez,
Audionom,
Magma,
Cymande,
Kaleidoscope,
The Red Krayola,
Girls At Our Best!,
Susan Cadogan,
Crime,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Moss Icon,
Half Japanese,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-Ray Spex,
Bootsy Collins,
Mars,
Sight & Sound,
Unrelated Segments,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.