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 Sudan and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Lou Reed 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 Soft Cell to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Goldenarms,
The Zeros,
Bobby Womack,
Qualms,
Symarip,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Aaron Thompson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Absolute Body Control,
The Remains,
Joe Smooth,
The Barracudas,
Bob Dylan,
Thee Headcoats,
Nas,
Hot Snakes,
Eden Ahbez,
48th St. Collective,
Ludus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Magma,
Sonny Sharrock,
T. Rex,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Young Rascals,
Adolescents,
Skaos,
Suburban Knight,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
In Retrospect,
The Move,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Excepter,
Aswad,
The Wake,
Franke,
Amon Düül,
Lalann,
Sällskapet,
Suicide,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Pop Group,
Ohio Players,
Tomorrow,
The Toasters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sex Pistols,
Television Personalities,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Knickerbockers,
Altered Images,
Make Up,
DJ Sneak,
the Swans,
Jacques Brel,
Arcadia,
The Victims,
Mission of Burma,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.