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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 kango's stein massive to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eddi Front,
The Names,
Johnny Clarke,
China Crisis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Pus,
Severed Heads,
D'Angelo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Arthur Verocai,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Toni Rubio,
Qualms,
Moebius,
Al Stewart,
Prince Buster,
Pagans,
Fat Boys,
R.M.O.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nico,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
FM Einheit,
The Real Kids,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maurizio,
Nik Kershaw,
Scott Walker,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Pop Group,
Scrapy,
The Slackers,
F. McDonald,
Delon & Dalcan,
Barbara Tucker,
Tubeway Army,
Anakelly,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crispian St. Peters,
Leonard Cohen,
Robert Görl,
Lou Reed,
Cheater Slicks,
Boz Scaggs,
Blancmange,
Funkadelic,
Organ,
Echospace,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
48th St. Collective,
The Litter,
Graham Central Station,
The Walker Brothers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.