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 Turkmenistan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Magma,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Sherman,
Eli Mardock,
Joyce Sims,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Brick,
B.T. Express,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mark Hollis,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Siglo XX,
Unrelated Segments,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Golliwogs,
Stereo Dub,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
Chrome,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Dirtbombs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Laurel Aitken,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soul II Soul,
a-ha,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Niagra,
Prince Buster,
Roy Ayers,
Howard Jones,
The Buckinghams,
Youth Brigade,
China Crisis,
Bill Wells,
Carl Craig,
Skriet,
Camouflage,
The Evens,
Marmalade,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Surgeon,
DJ Style,
Eric Dolphy,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rod Modell,
The Sound,
The Shadows of Knight,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Sheep,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
The Offenders,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monochrome Set,
Harry Pussy,
Mo-Dettes,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.