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 Zambia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Loose Ends,
Robert Görl,
Bang On A Can,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nils Olav,
Kevin Saunderson,
Radiohead,
New Order,
Soft Machine,
Curtis Mayfield,
48th St. Collective,
Jeff Mills,
Electric Prunes,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cowsills,
Scientists,
Marmalade,
Slave,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Motorama,
Radio Birdman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ken Boothe,
Marine Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Trumans Water,
Mission of Burma,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eddi Front,
Roger Hodgson,
The Names,
Visage,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
The Divine Comedy,
Clear Light,
Joy Division,
Mo-Dettes,
Soul II Soul,
Soulsonic Force,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mad Mike,
The American Breed,
Surgeon,
Essential Logic,
Spandau Ballet,
Eve St. Jones,
Kas Product,
Absolute Body Control,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Basic Channel,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gun Club,
Dual Sessions,
Sarah Menescal,
Index,
Moss Icon,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.