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 Austria and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the grime 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet 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 '80s.
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 Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Kayak,
Aloha Tigers,
Robert Wyatt,
Pylon,
Niagra,
Fluxion,
Wings,
Hoover,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Juan Atkins,
Bill Near,
Faraquet,
Roxy Music,
Alice Coltrane,
Section 25,
T.S.O.L.,
This Heat,
Max Romeo,
Joensuu 1685,
Crispy Ambulance,
China Crisis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brothers Johnson,
Alton Ellis,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ituana,
Ponytail,
The Music Machine,
Pagans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Faust,
Black Pus,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
John Cale,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David Bowie,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Animal Collective,
Throbbing Gristle,
Yellowson,
Metal Thangz,
Roger Hodgson,
Henry Cow,
Barbara Tucker,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tears for Fears,
Mark Hollis,
Leonard Cohen,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
Japan,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Sherman,
Skaos,
the Soft Cell,
Aaron Thompson,
Tommy Roe,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.