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 Cameroon and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Desert Stars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Organ,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Fire Engines,
Warsaw,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Hood,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
La Düsseldorf,
The Moleskins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Albert Ayler,
Fat Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Sonny Sharrock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Moon,
Sight & Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Masters at Work,
Bluetip,
Brothers Johnson,
Ludus,
Eric B and Rakim,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Aural Exciters,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor,
Lalo Schifrin,
Leonard Cohen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
cv313,
Derrick May,
Girls At Our Best!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mark Hollis,
DNA,
Juan Atkins,
Maleditus Sound,
Boredoms,
China Crisis,
David Bowie,
Amazonics,
Scratch Acid,
Pere Ubu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Martian,
The Music Machine,
FM Einheit,
Intrusion,
Brass Construction,
Banda Bassotti,
Pierre Henry,
James White and The Blacks,
Gong,
The Selecter,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Gang Dance,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.