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 Papua New Guinea and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the snare 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 Kas Product to the rap 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Marmalade,
Roxette,
Gabor Szabo,
The Names,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Zeros,
Vladislav Delay,
Desert Stars,
Robert Hood,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Halsall,
Tommy Roe,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Pus,
Unwound,
Pulsallama,
The Sonics,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nik Kershaw,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Sneak,
Johnny Osbourne,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Moleskins,
Derrick Morgan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Franke,
Dark Day,
Toni Rubio,
The Divine Comedy,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nick Fraelich,
John Lydon,
Bluetip,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eli Mardock,
Charles Mingus,
Terry Callier,
Janne Schatter,
Cameo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mark Hollis,
Nils Olav,
The Fugs,
The Litter,
Cymande,
Ken Boothe,
Don Cherry,
The Remains,
Schoolly D,
The Music Machine,
The Leaves,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pierre Henry,
Wolf Eyes,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.