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 Ivory Coast and from Spokane.
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 Manchester and Philadelphia.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the snare 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Average White Band,
Supertramp,
Soft Cell,
James White and The Blacks,
Steve Hackett,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang Green,
Dave Gahan,
The Doors,
Lungfish,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
Sex Pistols,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Derrick May,
Sonic Youth,
Buzzcocks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Wake,
The Star Department,
Negative Approach,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Last Poets,
The Beau Brummels,
John Lydon,
Lalann,
Q and Not U,
Easy Going,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Aswad,
Dennis Brown,
Brick,
Metal Thangz,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Blancmange,
Erasure,
The American Breed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marvin Gaye,
Grey Daturas,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fall,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mark Hollis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Agent Orange,
The Pretty Things,
John Foxx,
The Moleskins,
AZ,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alice Coltrane,
Bill Near,
Unwound,
Scratch Acid,
Swans,
The Gun Club,
Stiv Bators,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.