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 Costa Rica and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 organ 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 Charles Mingus to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Kurtis Blow,
Groovy Waters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Pus,
Big Daddy Kane,
Siglo XX,
Whodini,
Malaria!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Johnny Clarke,
Bootsy Collins,
Wally Richardson,
Rufus Thomas,
Sixth Finger,
Jeff Mills,
Alphaville,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Colin Newman,
Reuben Wilson,
Deadbeat,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eurythmics,
Model 500,
Max Romeo,
The Red Krayola,
Mo-Dettes,
Easy Going,
Gerry Rafferty,
These Immortal Souls,
Depeche Mode,
Leonard Cohen,
Connie Case,
Nik Kershaw,
Monolake,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Funky Four + One,
La Düsseldorf,
Alton Ellis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Infiniti,
Faust,
Bauhaus,
Alison Limerick,
Grauzone,
Ludus,
Rod Modell,
Von Mondo,
JFA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Country Teasers,
Tommy Roe,
Banda Bassotti,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moebius,
Sight & Sound,
Metal Thangz,
Maurizio,
Bobby Womack,
Goldenarms,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Victims,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.