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 Comoros and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Arab on Radar to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Harry Pussy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sonic Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cecil Taylor,
The Saints,
The Five Americans,
Alton Ellis,
Hoover,
Kayak,
Max Romeo,
The Index,
Joe Finger,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Agent Orange,
Eve St. Jones,
The Real Kids,
Second Layer,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Delta 5,
the Soft Cell,
The Seeds,
U.S. Maple,
Man Parrish,
Stetsasonic,
John Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bush Tetras,
Angry Samoans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Excepter,
Roxette,
Country Teasers,
Glenn Branca,
Matthew Bourne,
Moebius,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Qualms,
Model 500,
Glambeats Corp.,
Quadrant,
Funky Four + One,
Pharoah Sanders,
Radiohead,
Marine Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Johnny Clarke,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lightning Bolt,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
Essential Logic,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.