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 United Kingdom and from Toronto.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ten City,
Johnny Clarke,
CMW,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Reed,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scratch Acid,
Cecil Taylor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang On A Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nico,
The Raincoats,
Public Enemy,
Albert Ayler,
Amon Düül,
Dave Gahan,
Magma,
Deepchord,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gichy Dan,
Bauhaus,
Schoolly D,
Donny Hathaway,
Jacques Brel,
La Düsseldorf,
David Axelrod,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sex Pistols,
Donald Byrd,
FM Einheit,
Susan Cadogan,
AZ,
Inner City,
Talk Talk,
Circle Jerks,
Lyres,
Joyce Sims,
Duran Duran,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eurythmics,
Pole,
Fluxion,
Barry Ungar,
Porter Ricks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes,
Model 500,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moby Grape,
Jeff Lynne,
Sandy B,
Brass Construction,
Maleditus Sound,
Hardrive,
Janne Schatter,
Juan Atkins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pussy Galore,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.