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 Italy and from Manchester.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Underground Resistance 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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Offenders,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Hood,
The Young Rascals,
The Fire Engines,
Motorama,
Organ,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Golliwogs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Can,
Trumans Water,
Fat Boys,
Nirvana,
Radio Birdman,
Dennis Brown,
Lindisfarne,
Terry Callier,
Lakeside,
PIL,
Tubeway Army,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Dual Sessions,
Sex Pistols,
The Dirtbombs,
June of 44,
Andrew Hill,
Scott Walker,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Massinfluence,
a-ha,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
Barrington Levy,
the Slits,
Livin' Joy,
One Last Wish,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Starr,
Slave,
Nico,
New Age Steppers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Iggy Pop,
Mandrill,
Mark Hollis,
Carl Craig,
Sister Nancy,
Khruangbin,
Maleditus Sound,
Ken Boothe,
The Busters,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Electric Prunes,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Lyres,
Idris Muhammad,
The Beau Brummels,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.