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 Pakistan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Beau Brummels to the techno 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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Junior Murvin,
Peter and Kerry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang of Four,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Royal Trux,
Hardrive,
John Holt,
Deepchord,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tears for Fears,
June Days,
Soul II Soul,
Hashim,
The Neon Judgement,
Nirvana,
Circle Jerks,
Metal Thangz,
a-ha,
The Golliwogs,
The Doors,
Patti Smith,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Lydon,
The Mummies,
The Smiths,
Steve Hackett,
The Litter,
The New Christs,
Mars,
T. Rex,
Camouflage,
Wings,
Shoche,
Kurtis Blow,
Glambeats Corp.,
China Crisis,
Gong,
Moebius,
Janne Schatter,
Crime,
Piero Umiliani,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Moon,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ultimate Spinach,
Minnie Riperton,
Underground Resistance,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Angels of Light,
Wally Richardson,
June of 44,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.