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 Mauritania and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 Camberwell Now to the punk 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
World's Most,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fire Engines,
The Leaves,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Vainqueur,
Guru Guru,
The Fugs,
Yellowson,
Angry Samoans,
Bronski Beat,
The Trojans,
Eric Copeland,
Howard Jones,
Rotary Connection,
Fluxion,
Danielle Patucci,
Skaos,
Wally Richardson,
Rosa Yemen,
Nirvana,
Connie Case,
The Invisible,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marine Girls,
The Sonics,
Bang On A Can,
The Doobie Brothers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Sound,
The Real Kids,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Soft Cell,
Country Teasers,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
The Kinks,
Rapeman,
Anakelly,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monks,
Radiohead,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Whodini,
The Mummies,
Swell Maps,
One Last Wish,
The Blackbyrds,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mantronix,
Shuggie Otis,
Ituana,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
The Smoke,
Peter & Gordon,
Scrapy,
Slave,
Harmonia,
The Slits,
New York Dolls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.