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 Equatorial Guinea and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Duran Duran to the dance 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nation of Ulysses,
PIL,
Erykah Badu,
Sonic Youth,
X-101,
Wasted Youth,
David Bowie,
Mad Mike,
Silicon Teens,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lightning Bolt,
Jawbox,
Marvin Gaye,
Ultimate Spinach,
Graham Central Station,
the Sonics,
Dave Gahan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Doors,
L. Decosne,
Boredoms,
Wire,
Cymande,
The Evens,
Pere Ubu,
Young Marble Giants,
CMW,
Ultra Naté,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
Nils Olav,
The Busters,
Pierre Henry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Althea and Donna,
Gabor Szabo,
Roger Hodgson,
Heaven 17,
Ronnie Foster,
Eden Ahbez,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Soul II Soul,
U.S. Maple,
Pharoah Sanders,
Metal Thangz,
Television,
Boz Scaggs,
Harmonia,
World's Most,
The Pop Group,
Ice-T,
The Residents,
Pantaleimon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quantec,
Shoche,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Accadde A,
Anthony Braxton,
Matthew Halsall,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.