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 Bangladesh and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Philadelphia.
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 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 The Count Five to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Quadrant,
Bronski Beat,
Mantronix,
Masters at Work,
The Knickerbockers,
Clear Light,
Grauzone,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
June Days,
Mo-Dettes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MDC,
Fad Gadget,
Darondo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Oblivians,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Moon,
Deepchord,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
Roger Hodgson,
DJ Sneak,
David McCallum,
Funky Four + One,
Scientists,
Colin Newman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tommy Roe,
Skriet,
The Happenings,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lucky Dragons,
The Cure,
Half Japanese,
Little Man,
Reagan Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Quantec,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cameo,
Ken Boothe,
Von Mondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Interpol,
Bang On A Can,
Japan,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
Wire,
The Litter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Niagra,
Erasure,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.