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 India and from Houston.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Crash Course in Science to the jazz 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All MC5 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 jazz 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Blake Baxter,
Lyres,
Boogie Down Productions,
Byron Stingily,
Laurel Aitken,
Maleditus Sound,
The Gun Club,
Section 25,
Eric Dolphy,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Tom Boy,
John Holt,
Dave Gahan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bad Manners,
The Human League,
Joey Negro,
Marine Girls,
Toni Rubio,
Sister Nancy,
Bluetip,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pierre Henry,
Jacques Brel,
The Skatalites,
Scientists,
Brothers Johnson,
Johnny Osbourne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soul Sonic Force,
David Bowie,
Wings,
Television,
Tim Buckley,
Country Teasers,
AZ,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Parrish,
The Golliwogs,
The Blackbyrds,
Neu!,
The Zeros,
The Detroit Cobras,
Darondo,
Cheater Slicks,
Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Sheep,
Fear,
Matthew Bourne,
Scrapy,
Tears for Fears,
Neil Young,
Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Human League,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Bananas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Velvet Underground,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.