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 Vanuatu and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Martian to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Joyce Sims,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Cowsills,
Susan Cadogan,
cv313,
Delta 5,
Circle Jerks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
Josef K,
Mission of Burma,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
The Offenders,
E-Dancer,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Spandau Ballet,
John Cale,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Khruangbin,
Carl Craig,
Roxette,
June Days,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
Cameo,
Altered Images,
Todd Terry,
The Gap Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mantronix,
James White and The Blacks,
Gabor Szabo,
Ohio Players,
The Angels of Light,
Quantec,
Desert Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Divine Comedy,
DJ Sneak,
Slick Rick,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ponytail,
Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Mr. Review,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sarah Menescal,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Busters,
Metal Thangz,
Yazoo,
Piero Umiliani,
Eve St. Jones,
Japan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.