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 Bulgaria and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Gang Gang Dance to the punk 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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
the Swans,
Warren Ellis,
World's Most,
Liliput,
Steve Hackett,
Avey Tare,
Alphaville,
Blake Baxter,
Electric Prunes,
Eric Dolphy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Carl Craig,
The Cowsills,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Moebius,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Skarface,
Erykah Badu,
Black Moon,
The Human League,
UT,
Ralphi Rosario,
Whodini,
Kevin Saunderson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Archie Shepp,
Howard Jones,
Parry Music,
The Durutti Column,
Connie Case,
Harry Pussy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Charles Mingus,
Prince Buster,
Monolake,
Robert Hood,
David Bowie,
F. McDonald,
ABBA,
Crime,
The Doobie Brothers,
Neu!,
Robert Görl,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Glenn Branca,
The Stooges,
Icehouse,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pantytec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.