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 Mozambique and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Das Ding to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Gong,
The Black Dice,
Iggy Pop,
The Dirtbombs,
Joy Division,
Porter Ricks,
Khruangbin,
Albert Ayler,
X-102,
Kurtis Blow,
Donny Hathaway,
Can,
Interpol,
Blake Baxter,
The Young Rascals,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Angels of Light,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Altered Images,
Sugar Minott,
the Human League,
Masters at Work,
The Barracudas,
The Gories,
Outsiders,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lucky Dragons,
Drive Like Jehu,
Funkadelic,
The Smiths,
Kenny Larkin,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Invisible,
Nirvana,
Deadbeat,
Radiopuhelimet,
T.S.O.L.,
Negative Approach,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scott Walker,
The Fire Engines,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hoover,
JFA,
U.S. Maple,
Sight & Sound,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scion,
Severed Heads,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ronan,
Spandau Ballet,
The Gun Club,
Desert Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Star Department,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.