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 Estonia and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Man Eating Sloth to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
AZ,
Nirvana,
Stetsasonic,
Sex Pistols,
Scott Walker,
The Walker Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
The Monochrome Set,
The Fuzztones,
the Slits,
Visage,
Delon & Dalcan,
Amon Düül,
Jawbox,
Slick Rick,
Monolake,
Model 500,
Spandau Ballet,
The Names,
Suicide,
Bad Manners,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pole,
Erykah Badu,
Al Stewart,
Lakeside,
This Heat,
Sun Ra,
The Red Krayola,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Warsaw,
Marmalade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heaven 17,
Deakin,
Mandrill,
Rakim,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang Gang Dance,
Y Pants,
Fat Boys,
Los Fastidios,
Stereo Dub,
Mars,
Vladislav Delay,
Fluxion,
The United States of America,
X-101,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cymande,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Yaz,
The Five Americans,
The Blues Magoos,
Hot Snakes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grandmaster Flash,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.