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 Bangladesh and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the 808 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
The Vogues,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wire,
Bobby Womack,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Duran Duran,
Barbara Tucker,
Lou Christie,
Magma,
Icehouse,
Aloha Tigers,
Maurizio,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nick Fraelich,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
Mission of Burma,
Rosa Yemen,
John Foxx,
Janne Schatter,
Eric Copeland,
New York Dolls,
Procol Harum,
Robert Hood,
Alice Coltrane,
Bronski Beat,
Erykah Badu,
Sandy B,
Terry Callier,
Dave Gahan,
Audionom,
Massinfluence,
Lyres,
Fat Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Electric Prunes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eli Mardock,
Mark Hollis,
Outsiders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kayak,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nico,
Don Cherry,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eurythmics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Black Dice,
The Birthday Party,
Newcleus,
The Busters,
Joensuu 1685,
Scott Walker,
Joey Negro,
Soulsonic Force,
Underground Resistance,
Tomorrow,
Swell Maps,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.