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 Angola and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin 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 Maleditus Sound to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Stooges,
Moby Grape,
Quantec,
ABBA,
Jeru the Damaja,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Mr. Review,
Eric Copeland,
Sun City Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
The American Breed,
PIL,
kango's stein massive,
Skarface,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
Clear Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dave Gahan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mantronix,
Siglo XX,
Unrelated Segments,
The Human League,
Ohio Players,
The Durutti Column,
LL Cool J,
Cybotron,
Loose Ends,
Lungfish,
Suicide,
Avey Tare,
The Offenders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boredoms,
ABC,
Livin' Joy,
Technova,
Minutemen,
June of 44,
Vladislav Delay,
Grauzone,
The Walker Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scratch Acid,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Barbara Tucker,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Trojans,
Archie Shepp,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mad Mike,
T. Rex,
Sugar Minott,
Dorothy Ashby,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gang Starr,
Ponytail,
The Selecter,
K-Klass,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.