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 China 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
Khruangbin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Amazonics,
Ice-T,
Deakin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nils Olav,
Al Stewart,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T.S.O.L.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Thee Headcoats,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cameo,
Maurizio,
The Residents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Steve Hackett,
Deadbeat,
Television,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lou Reed,
Delta 5,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Minnie Riperton,
Donald Byrd,
Slave,
Interpol,
Aswad,
Lungfish,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Basic Channel,
Intrusion,
The Smiths,
Soft Machine,
The Walker Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
Sex Pistols,
Zapp,
The Skatalites,
Sugar Minott,
Joe Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crash Course in Science,
Freddie Wadling,
Fugazi,
Hasil Adkins,
Magma,
Marmalade,
Moss Icon,
The Dave Clark Five,
Howard Jones,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.