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 Niger and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Toasters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Half Japanese,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Letta Mbulu,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Almond,
Lalo Schifrin,
Excepter,
Zero Boys,
Delta 5,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crooked Eye,
Mo-Dettes,
Q and Not U,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doors,
The American Breed,
Kevin Saunderson,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Sherman,
Reuben Wilson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Camouflage,
Magazine,
Peter & Gordon,
ABBA,
Oneida,
Theoretical Girls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
One Last Wish,
Anakelly,
Brick,
Dawn Penn,
The Shadows of Knight,
Amazonics,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Chrome,
Black Flag,
Rosa Yemen,
DNA,
Arthur Verocai,
Roxette,
Scion,
The Birthday Party,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Happenings,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skaos,
Judy Mowatt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Last Poets,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric Copeland,
Ossler,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Scott Walker,
Visage,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lou Reed,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.