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 Latvia and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
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 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 Michael McDonald 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 Nik Kershaw to the dance 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Television,
Saccharine Trust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
OOIOO,
Sam Rivers,
Dark Day,
The Fugs,
The Red Krayola,
Franke,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rotary Connection,
Alice Coltrane,
Mars,
Rites of Spring,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
The Moody Blues,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang of Four,
Alphaville,
Graham Central Station,
Black Pus,
Fela Kuti,
Essential Logic,
Jimmy McGriff,
Glenn Branca,
CMW,
The Slackers,
The Walker Brothers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Echospace,
The Smiths,
Pierre Henry,
Rosa Yemen,
Khruangbin,
Eric Dolphy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rapeman,
F. McDonald,
Scion,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Byrd,
Scratch Acid,
Piero Umiliani,
Yaz,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Gladiators,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Reagan Youth,
Barbara Tucker,
Sällskapet,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.