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 Switzerland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 8 Eyed Spy to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Marvin Gaye,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
the Sonics,
Marc Almond,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lungfish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Technova,
Audionom,
The Sonics,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shuggie Otis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
David Bowie,
Monks,
Sällskapet,
Section 25,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Simply Red,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rekid,
The Cowsills,
Nas,
Parry Music,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Martian,
This Heat,
Accadde A,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Prince Buster,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Bananas,
Silicon Teens,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Kinks,
Moebius,
Jacob Miller,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Angels of Light,
R.M.O.,
Unrelated Segments,
Los Fastidios,
B.T. Express,
Intrusion,
Wally Richardson,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
These Immortal Souls,
Ponytail,
Charles Mingus,
Vladislav Delay,
Tropical Tobacco,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.