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 Kyrgyzstan and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sound Behaviour,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Sherman,
Yellowson,
Surgeon,
Joy Division,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Brick,
Nils Olav,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Accadde A,
Amon Düül II,
Joey Negro,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fugs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Human League,
The Techniques,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warren Ellis,
Soft Machine,
Severed Heads,
Mr. Review,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sparks,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ronan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Alton Ellis,
The Raincoats,
The Evens,
The Angels of Light,
Slave,
Cecil Taylor,
Harry Pussy,
The Motions,
New Order,
Masters at Work,
The Velvet Underground,
Saccharine Trust,
H. Thieme,
Khruangbin,
Aaron Thompson,
Wolf Eyes,
Wings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Todd Rundgren,
Morten Harket,
Nirvana,
John Cale,
Skaos,
Albert Ayler,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
Quantec,
Joensuu 1685,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.