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 Nigeria and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Dead Boys to the techno 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Scrapy,
Nick Fraelich,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
UT,
OOIOO,
Mad Mike,
Crispy Ambulance,
Au Pairs,
Interpol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nico,
Minnie Riperton,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
One Last Wish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
cv313,
Nirvana,
Bad Manners,
Ponytail,
MDC,
The Star Department,
Bobby Womack,
The United States of America,
Pantytec,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül II,
Jacques Brel,
F. McDonald,
Pere Ubu,
Eden Ahbez,
Reagan Youth,
New York Dolls,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Idris Muhammad,
Ludus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Moon,
Cybotron,
Jeff Mills,
The Stooges,
Harmonia,
Avey Tare,
Kenny Larkin,
Wasted Youth,
Echospace,
Roger Hodgson,
Moby Grape,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gories,
John Holt,
Charles Mingus,
Das Ding,
The Black Dice,
Brick,
Slave,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Colin Newman,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.