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 Algeria and from London.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 rhodes 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 The Moleskins to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Bluetip,
Rekid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Minny Pops,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Todd Rundgren,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dawn Penn,
Chrome,
Smog,
Scan 7,
ABC,
Maurizio,
The Toasters,
Scratch Acid,
Faraquet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
In Retrospect,
Robert Görl,
Infiniti,
Lightning Bolt,
Curtis Mayfield,
Radio Birdman,
Television,
Cymande,
John Coltrane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Franke,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Roger Hodgson,
Don Cherry,
Ice-T,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alison Limerick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moebius,
The Pop Group,
Newcleus,
Iggy Pop,
Can,
Lucky Dragons,
The Knickerbockers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Womack,
Fugazi,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
a-ha,
Underground Resistance,
Drive Like Jehu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sam Rivers,
Wings,
Bill Near,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cal Tjader,
Subhumans,
Charles Mingus,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.