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 Kazakhstan and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the rap 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
John Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
X-Ray Spex,
Matthew Bourne,
Rakim,
New York Dolls,
Skriet,
The Stooges,
Warsaw,
Theoretical Girls,
Funkadelic,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Skatalites,
Metal Thangz,
Gang Gang Dance,
E-Dancer,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Altered Images,
June Days,
Heaven 17,
Chrome,
Gregory Isaacs,
Magma,
Faust,
T. Rex,
Pulsallama,
Jawbox,
The Cramps,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultravox,
The Standells,
Lyres,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Accadde A,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Half Japanese,
Radio Birdman,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Zeros,
Carl Craig,
B.T. Express,
Jesper Dahlback,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
John Cale,
Fugazi,
Black Flag,
Maurizio,
The Alarm Clocks,
Panda Bear,
Ten City,
Oneida,
Letta Mbulu,
Magazine,
Motorama,
Schoolly D,
Ice-T,
Joe Finger,
Porter Ricks,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.