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 Denmark and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
The Cowsills,
Carl Craig,
Funky Four + One,
Amon Düül,
Thee Headcoats,
Rod Modell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soft Cell,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
The Stooges,
Joe Finger,
La Düsseldorf,
David Axelrod,
Whodini,
The Invisible,
The Monochrome Set,
Angry Samoans,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Coltrane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sarah Menescal,
Neil Young,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swans,
Alphaville,
Ronnie Foster,
Porter Ricks,
Bauhaus,
The Real Kids,
The Doobie Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
Althea and Donna,
Joy Division,
Hasil Adkins,
The Index,
The Standells,
The Saints,
Stiv Bators,
The Velvet Underground,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
Banda Bassotti,
Toni Rubio,
Scratch Acid,
The Offenders,
Wally Richardson,
Faraquet,
Flash Fearless,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Unwound,
The Motions,
Masters at Work,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ponytail,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.