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 Venezuela and from Mexico City.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Symarip to the rap 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Frankie Knuckles,
Inner City,
The Remains,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Searchers,
Wolf Eyes,
Sam Rivers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Fugs,
Magma,
Lyres,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
Khruangbin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Maurizio,
The Last Poets,
Derrick May,
The Cowsills,
Unwound,
David Bowie,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Archie Shepp,
Brothers Johnson,
Babytalk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gichy Dan,
Surgeon,
Sex Pistols,
Subhumans,
The Gun Club,
Alphaville,
The Doors,
The Fuzztones,
Joe Finger,
Joyce Sims,
Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
Letta Mbulu,
Wasted Youth,
Fela Kuti,
Laurel Aitken,
Half Japanese,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marmalade,
The Offenders,
Scott Walker,
Freddie Wadling,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Qualms,
Ludus,
Swans,
The Dead C,
The Buckinghams,
The Walker Brothers,
Pantaleimon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.