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 Mexico and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 PIL to the disco 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Barry Ungar,
Soulsonic Force,
Maleditus Sound,
The Motions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mantronix,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Vogues,
Derrick May,
The Walker Brothers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Birthday Party,
Faust,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Talk Talk,
Amon Düül II,
Thompson Twins,
Tommy Roe,
Bill Near,
Boredoms,
Ronan,
Tomorrow,
The New Christs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Doors,
Das Ding,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Buckinghams,
Dawn Penn,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Procol Harum,
Dark Day,
Frankie Knuckles,
Judy Mowatt,
DJ Style,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Franke,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sight & Sound,
China Crisis,
Rapeman,
Monks,
Banda Bassotti,
Livin' Joy,
Byron Stingily,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Khruangbin,
The Five Americans,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dead Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Clarke,
Gichy Dan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
Inner City,
Saccharine Trust,
John Lydon,
Ultra Naté,
Sarah Menescal,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.