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 Kiribati and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Skriet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Neu!,
Los Fastidios,
Youth Brigade,
Jeff Mills,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
L. Decosne,
The Cure,
Kerrie Biddell,
Surgeon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sound Behaviour,
Brick,
Ice-T,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Silicon Teens,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kenny Larkin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Holt,
The Doors,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Supertramp,
Jandek,
Ultra Naté,
Faust,
Absolute Body Control,
Rotary Connection,
D'Angelo,
Sex Pistols,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Dual Sessions,
Smog,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Wells,
Niagra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultravox,
Vladislav Delay,
Fela Kuti,
Roy Ayers,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
Dead Boys,
The Raincoats,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June Days,
X-101,
Roxy Music,
Fluxion,
Bobby Byrd,
Severed Heads,
FM Einheit,
Maurizio,
Scratch Acid,
Urselle,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.