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 Iceland and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 sitar 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 Surgeon to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Toni Rubio,
Warsaw,
Niagra,
Sun City Girls,
E-Dancer,
Crime,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Neu!,
One Last Wish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drexciya,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bluetip,
The Star Department,
UT,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Robert Hood,
Eve St. Jones,
Nik Kershaw,
Erasure,
Make Up,
Livin' Joy,
Junior Murvin,
the Association,
Harry Pussy,
Lower 48,
Eric B and Rakim,
Heaven 17,
LL Cool J,
The Angels of Light,
Moss Icon,
The Gun Club,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Soulsonic Force,
Eli Mardock,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eurythmics,
Mandrill,
Jawbox,
Motorama,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Al Stewart,
Jacques Brel,
Yellowson,
Television,
Sound Behaviour,
The Names,
Slave,
Skarface,
The Martian,
10cc,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Hardrive,
Au Pairs,
CMW,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roxy Music,
Faraquet,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.