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 Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Warsaw to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
John Coltrane,
Henry Cow,
The Red Krayola,
Moby Grape,
Gichy Dan,
Kayak,
Q65,
Lungfish,
Mandrill,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Bar-Kays,
a-ha,
AZ,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Foxx,
Barry Ungar,
Duran Duran,
Letta Mbulu,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Joe Finger,
Talk Talk,
Khruangbin,
Technova,
Oneida,
Scion,
Nik Kershaw,
Groovy Waters,
Sugar Minott,
Patti Smith,
The Selecter,
The Gladiators,
Pere Ubu,
Second Layer,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Dirtbombs,
D'Angelo,
The Wake,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang of Four,
Organ,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Evens,
June of 44,
Joensuu 1685,
The Leaves,
Marine Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
The Happenings,
The Monks,
Hashim,
the Soft Cell,
Joy Division,
The Searchers,
Monks,
Japan,
Flamin' Groovies,
8 Eyed Spy,
Magazine,
Moss Icon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Juan Atkins,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.