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 Slovenia and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Monks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Gichy Dan,
The Walker Brothers,
The American Breed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Heaven 17,
Mo-Dettes,
JFA,
Crash Course in Science,
Dennis Brown,
The Music Machine,
Donald Byrd,
Sällskapet,
a-ha,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
10cc,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ludus,
Y Pants,
The Barracudas,
The Cramps,
Maurizio,
Chris & Cosey,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
Television Personalities,
Peter & Gordon,
Jeff Mills,
Scion,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun City Girls,
Flash Fearless,
Au Pairs,
The Mummies,
New Age Steppers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Knickerbockers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Index,
Tubeway Army,
The Gap Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rosa Yemen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Circle Jerks,
The Fall,
Schoolly D,
Soft Cell,
Jeff Lynne,
Sex Pistols,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lyres,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Pus,
Darondo,
Eden Ahbez,
David Bowie,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.