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 Antigua and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Ken Boothe to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Fatback Band,
These Immortal Souls,
the Swans,
Camberwell Now,
Symarip,
Matthew Bourne,
Sun City Girls,
JFA,
The Names,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Qualms,
Bang On A Can,
Peter & Gordon,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mars,
Gichy Dan,
Radiohead,
Country Teasers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bauhaus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lungfish,
Peter and Kerry,
Boredoms,
The Saints,
Moby Grape,
Eli Mardock,
Minny Pops,
T.S.O.L.,
The Cowsills,
Yusef Lateef,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marmalade,
Fugazi,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tres Demented,
Desert Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fugs,
Deakin,
Maurizio,
Faust,
Q and Not U,
Talk Talk,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bluetip,
The Human League,
Glenn Branca,
Junior Murvin,
MDC,
kango's stein massive,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Real Kids,
AZ,
Hasil Adkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Excepter,
Josef K,
Funkadelic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.