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 Uruguay and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Moody Blues to the electroclash 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Basic Channel,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wire,
The Skatalites,
Flipper,
Motorama,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cluster,
Royal Trux,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rapeman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mummies,
Big Daddy Kane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sällskapet,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Symarip,
PIL,
Mandrill,
Eve St. Jones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Procol Harum,
Alice Coltrane,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joensuu 1685,
Janne Schatter,
Shoche,
Grey Daturas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Black Dice,
Hot Snakes,
James White and The Blacks,
New Age Steppers,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Suburban Knight,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Count Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Little Man,
Half Japanese,
Henry Cow,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bang On A Can,
These Immortal Souls,
The Leaves,
Tim Buckley,
Spoonie Gee,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Guru Guru,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.