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 Cape Verde and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Warsaw to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Sister Nancy,
The Offenders,
The Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül,
The Busters,
Sight & Sound,
Soulsonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
Marine Girls,
Moebius,
Wings,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Stetsasonic,
Funky Four + One,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxy Music,
Vladislav Delay,
Letta Mbulu,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eden Ahbez,
The Durutti Column,
The Real Kids,
Man Parrish,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gichy Dan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Oblivians,
Deepchord,
Kerri Chandler,
Niagra,
Zero Boys,
Skaos,
Rapeman,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bad Manners,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Techniques,
Supertramp,
The Count Five,
Josef K,
The Gun Club,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pop Group,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Germs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aaron Thompson,
Fatback Band,
Gang Green,
The Smiths,
The Music Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shuggie Otis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Slackers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.