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 Pakistan and from Houston.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Toni Rubio to the grime 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Sandy B,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Selecter,
The Leaves,
Faust,
Joe Finger,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Johnny Clarke,
Ronan,
Newcleus,
OOIOO,
Negative Approach,
Piero Umiliani,
The Gladiators,
Franke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
B.T. Express,
The Sonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Fraelich,
the Slits,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Symarip,
Tres Demented,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Walker Brothers,
JFA,
Nation of Ulysses,
Moss Icon,
Scientists,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Wake,
Bush Tetras,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neil Young,
Lyres,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Panda Bear,
Young Marble Giants,
Stiv Bators,
Section 25,
Yusef Lateef,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sonic Youth,
Visage,
Radiopuhelimet,
kango's stein massive,
Ultravox,
The Five Americans,
Marc Almond,
Icehouse,
Man Parrish,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
Public Enemy,
Jawbox,
Clear Light,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.