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 Laos and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 These Immortal Souls to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Joensuu 1685,
Aaron Thompson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Iggy Pop,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Charles Mingus,
David Bowie,
Isaac Hayes,
Public Enemy,
Sparks,
Stockholm Monsters,
David McCallum,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Man Parrish,
Intrusion,
Camberwell Now,
the Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drive Like Jehu,
Barclay James Harvest,
Albert Ayler,
Babytalk,
Anthony Braxton,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sandy B,
Peter and Kerry,
Derrick May,
Todd Terry,
Dave Gahan,
Half Japanese,
The Dirtbombs,
Visage,
Rites of Spring,
Masters at Work,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mr. Review,
Mad Mike,
Parry Music,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ultra Naté,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Byrd,
Cluster,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
U.S. Maple,
Freddie Wadling,
the Association,
The Residents,
Television,
The Techniques,
Roy Ayers,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Eric Copeland,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Flag,
Deadbeat,
the Normal,
Marc Almond,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.