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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
The Music Machine,
Funky Four + One,
Outsiders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Flag,
Lou Christie,
Unrelated Segments,
Model 500,
Nils Olav,
Dead Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
Laurel Aitken,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul Sonic Force,
The United States of America,
Ten City,
Suicide,
Kaleidoscope,
Skarface,
Drexciya,
Magma,
Supertramp,
Erykah Badu,
Man Eating Sloth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Toasters,
The Martian,
Infiniti,
Dave Gahan,
Patti Smith,
Sandy B,
Rakim,
The Monks,
Tim Buckley,
Pagans,
Sun City Girls,
Echospace,
Terrestrial Tones,
Index,
Tubeway Army,
MDC,
Tomorrow,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eve St. Jones,
Reagan Youth,
Sam Rivers,
Cluster,
Boz Scaggs,
The Divine Comedy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nation of Ulysses,
Josef K,
Banda Bassotti,
Ponytail,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
X-Ray Spex,
Bronski Beat,
Lalo Schifrin,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.