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 Slovenia 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lebanon Hanover to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
the Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
ABC,
The Wake,
Cluster,
Urselle,
Kool Moe Dee,
Graham Central Station,
Mr. Review,
Slave,
Saccharine Trust,
The Star Department,
Morten Harket,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Near,
Liliput,
Eden Ahbez,
Henry Cow,
Essential Logic,
Leonard Cohen,
Dual Sessions,
Grey Daturas,
Barry Ungar,
The Fortunes,
Iggy Pop,
Average White Band,
The Evens,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gong,
K-Klass,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roxy Music,
the Soft Cell,
The Sound,
Lower 48,
Accadde A,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Panda Bear,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Country Teasers,
Bauhaus,
Roy Ayers,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Residents,
Severed Heads,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
The Last Poets,
Lou Reed,
The Shadows of Knight,
Althea and Donna,
This Heat,
Zero Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Cymande,
the Normal,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dark Day,
Howard Jones,
Gang of Four,
The Leaves,
Rites of Spring,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.