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 Uzbekistan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Crooked Eye,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sound Behaviour,
The Martian,
Black Flag,
Hardrive,
Suicide,
Main Source,
Skaos,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fugs,
kango's stein massive,
The Misunderstood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Infiniti,
The Fortunes,
K-Klass,
Kenny Larkin,
Yazoo,
Cameo,
Fad Gadget,
The Wake,
UT,
The Divine Comedy,
Organ,
Dead Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tim Buckley,
Minny Pops,
Todd Terry,
Michelle Simonal,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Parry Music,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Moon,
Pere Ubu,
Soulsonic Force,
Basic Channel,
Piero Umiliani,
Warren Ellis,
Ronan,
Ten City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lakeside,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pylon,
The Searchers,
Moby Grape,
Can,
A Certain Ratio,
Crash Course in Science,
Malaria!,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radio Birdman,
Albert Ayler,
Unwound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.