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 Bangladesh and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Supertramp,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dawn Penn,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eric Copeland,
Eve St. Jones,
Sight & Sound,
Surgeon,
The Pop Group,
Technova,
FM Einheit,
Graham Central Station,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
Roger Hodgson,
Jandek,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Magma,
Unrelated Segments,
Talk Talk,
Robert Görl,
Traffic Nightmare,
Skarface,
The Sound,
Gang Green,
Faraquet,
Dave Gahan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Matthew Halsall,
Crime,
Bauhaus,
Roxy Music,
The Leaves,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joy Division,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Blossom Toes,
The Mummies,
Archie Shepp,
The Neon Judgement,
Dennis Brown,
David Bowie,
One Last Wish,
Cluster,
Kaleidoscope,
Bill Near,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
PIL,
Malaria!,
Wasted Youth,
Andrew Hill,
Icehouse,
Spoonie Gee,
Grauzone,
D'Angelo,
Rufus Thomas,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
cv313,
LL Cool J,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Sheep,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.