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 Chad and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ 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 Kerrie Biddell to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Deakin,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Normal,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Motions,
Black Bananas,
Procol Harum,
The Barracudas,
The Offenders,
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dead C,
Parry Music,
Mission of Burma,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Moby Grape,
Graham Central Station,
Hashim,
Wasted Youth,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Harry Pussy,
Mandrill,
Accadde A,
Wings,
Half Japanese,
Alphaville,
Barclay James Harvest,
FM Einheit,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Slave,
Grey Daturas,
Youth Brigade,
Roger Hodgson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Metal Thangz,
Ten City,
K-Klass,
Infiniti,
The Human League,
Yellowson,
Dave Gahan,
ABBA,
Bootsy Collins,
Delon & Dalcan,
Barry Ungar,
T.S.O.L.,
The Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Easy Going,
The Fire Engines,
Hoover,
The United States of America,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Terry Callier,
Curtis Mayfield,
Au Pairs,
La Düsseldorf,
Flamin' Groovies,
Absolute Body Control,
Index,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.