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 Tajikistan 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
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 güiro 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 Mandrill to the techno 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
The Blues Magoos,
Cluster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Human League,
Country Teasers,
Man Parrish,
The Star Department,
The Gun Club,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
DJ Sneak,
Con Funk Shun,
The Doobie Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Kool Moe Dee,
Whodini,
Moss Icon,
Audionom,
Severed Heads,
Faraquet,
Bluetip,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Subhumans,
the Germs,
The Stooges,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
Siglo XX,
Jawbox,
The Real Kids,
Television Personalities,
Liliput,
Bad Manners,
Joe Finger,
Skarface,
Bush Tetras,
Circle Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Fluxion,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick Morgan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eden Ahbez,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Infiniti,
OOIOO,
Lindisfarne,
The Saints,
Ronan,
Susan Cadogan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Sun City Girls,
Minny Pops,
The New Christs,
The Buckinghams,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Sherman,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.