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 Switzerland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Stiv Bators,
Massinfluence,
A Certain Ratio,
Gang of Four,
T. Rex,
Nirvana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Popol Vuh,
The Fall,
Khruangbin,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Monks,
Yusef Lateef,
Goldenarms,
the Association,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Slits,
JFA,
Interpol,
Panda Bear,
Gerry Rafferty,
Radiopuhelimet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minnie Riperton,
New Order,
Outsiders,
Tres Demented,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Starr,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Patti Smith,
Derrick May,
Todd Rundgren,
Brothers Johnson,
John Coltrane,
Ronan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sixth Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Move,
The Count Five,
Desert Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
Blancmange,
The Standells,
Bluetip,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantaleimon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rotary Connection,
The Evens,
Spoonie Gee,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.