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 Madagascar and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Gil Scott Heron to the funk 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Khruangbin,
Motorama,
Panda Bear,
Public Enemy,
Yusef Lateef,
Bob Dylan,
The Searchers,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Almond,
Ultra Naté,
Spandau Ballet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eric Dolphy,
Kerri Chandler,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Desert Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
The Smoke,
The Blues Magoos,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Golliwogs,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Clarke,
Cybotron,
Amazonics,
Jacques Brel,
Dead Boys,
Dennis Brown,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Colin Newman,
Whodini,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rakim,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Detroit Cobras,
Monolake,
OOIOO,
Bill Wells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Guru Guru,
Hasil Adkins,
Excepter,
Stiv Bators,
Matthew Halsall,
Angry Samoans,
Mr. Review,
Soul Sonic Force,
Skaos,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harry Pussy,
The Stooges,
Magazine,
Joe Smooth,
Freddie Wadling,
the Normal,
Ralphi Rosario,
New York Dolls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pylon,
The Mummies,
The Velvet Underground,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.