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 Tanzania and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Iggy Pop to the techno 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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
David McCallum,
Vladislav Delay,
Radiohead,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Leaves,
Spoonie Gee,
Qualms,
Anakelly,
The Trojans,
L. Decosne,
Brass Construction,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pole,
Underground Resistance,
Matthew Bourne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Erasure,
Second Layer,
Amazonics,
Nick Fraelich,
Wolf Eyes,
Babytalk,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bobby Byrd,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Main Source,
New York Dolls,
Black Pus,
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
MDC,
Skarface,
Index,
John Foxx,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Quando Quango,
Organ,
The Slits,
Sight & Sound,
Minutemen,
Peter & Gordon,
These Immortal Souls,
Camouflage,
Ultravox,
Alphaville,
Masters at Work,
Rufus Thomas,
Soft Machine,
Visage,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gabor Szabo,
Shoche,
Hasil Adkins,
Godley & Creme,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Hill,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Slave,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.