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 Israel and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 mellotron 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 Absolute Body Control to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
The Shadows of Knight,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mars,
Soft Cell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ronan,
Little Man,
The Smoke,
Jeru the Damaja,
Smog,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
The Fuzztones,
Half Japanese,
The Raincoats,
Sun City Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Visage,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Popol Vuh,
Cal Tjader,
Bill Near,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ossler,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cramps,
Quadrant,
Rod Modell,
Newcleus,
a-ha,
Bauhaus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stiv Bators,
The Five Americans,
Sam Rivers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pierre Henry,
Subhumans,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
James White and The Blacks,
Loose Ends,
The Invisible,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
June of 44,
Ponytail,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
KRS-One,
Babytalk,
Kerrie Biddell,
Whodini,
The Moleskins,
Don Cherry,
Nik Kershaw,
These Immortal Souls,
X-102,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Magazine,
Y Pants,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.