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 Peru and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 linndrum 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 A Certain Ratio to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Moleskins,
Vladislav Delay,
Can,
Thompson Twins,
Faust,
DJ Style,
Mad Mike,
Model 500,
Jandek,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Grauzone,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fat Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Sun City Girls,
John Holt,
Sex Pistols,
Nik Kershaw,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Remains,
the Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yellowson,
The Fugs,
One Last Wish,
The Neon Judgement,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
Man Eating Sloth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yaz,
U.S. Maple,
Wings,
John Coltrane,
Ronan,
Amon Düül II,
Index,
June Days,
Country Teasers,
The Dirtbombs,
The Slackers,
Jeff Mills,
The Sound,
Yazoo,
Kenny Larkin,
the Sonics,
The Durutti Column,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Tremeloes,
Amon Düül,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fuzztones,
The Raincoats,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mars,
The Mummies,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.