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 Czech Republic and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin 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 DNA to the dance 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
R.M.O.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sound Behaviour,
The Last Poets,
Desert Stars,
Vladislav Delay,
The Slackers,
Lucky Dragons,
Goldenarms,
Janne Schatter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Whodini,
China Crisis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Duran Duran,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultravox,
Albert Ayler,
Eden Ahbez,
Bill Near,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Man Parrish,
Marine Girls,
Massinfluence,
The Smoke,
Cal Tjader,
Flamin' Groovies,
Steve Hackett,
The Doors,
Tim Buckley,
Kerri Chandler,
Derrick Morgan,
The Leaves,
The Count Five,
Sugar Minott,
Delon & Dalcan,
Buzzcocks,
Little Man,
Au Pairs,
Anthony Braxton,
a-ha,
The Gladiators,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ten City,
Wasted Youth,
Royal Trux,
Subhumans,
The Young Rascals,
The Knickerbockers,
Model 500,
Lower 48,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Saints,
The Star Department,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Oneida,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.