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 United Kingdom and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Television Personalities to the punk 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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Moss Icon,
The Techniques,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Traffic Nightmare,
Yellowson,
Buzzcocks,
Nik Kershaw,
Deakin,
The Misunderstood,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Seeds,
the Soft Cell,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fela Kuti,
Sarah Menescal,
Cal Tjader,
U.S. Maple,
Don Cherry,
Radiohead,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Howard Jones,
Quantec,
Tom Boy,
Fugazi,
The Names,
Minny Pops,
Malaria!,
John Foxx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Excepter,
The Black Dice,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Soft Machine,
KRS-One,
a-ha,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Reagan Youth,
Inner City,
Royal Trux,
Rosa Yemen,
Intrusion,
The Blues Magoos,
Arab on Radar,
The Offenders,
Eddi Front,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grey Daturas,
The Divine Comedy,
Fluxion,
Mars,
Pole,
The Pretty Things,
Toni Rubio,
Talk Talk,
The Gun Club,
Joyce Sims,
Liliput,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Tremeloes,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.