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 Iceland and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 Goldenarms to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Saints,
The Invisible,
Pantaleimon,
Max Romeo,
Pantytec,
F. McDonald,
Ken Boothe,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Human League,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
Zero Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Index,
Archie Shepp,
Marc Almond,
The Happenings,
Technova,
Wally Richardson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Birthday Party,
Malaria!,
Andrew Hill,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fad Gadget,
Moby Grape,
Stereo Dub,
The Cramps,
ABC,
Chris & Cosey,
Donald Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Byron Stingily,
Fear,
Vainqueur,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Pus,
Sparks,
Suicide,
In Retrospect,
The Gun Club,
Black Flag,
Kaleidoscope,
Sister Nancy,
Bob Dylan,
Don Cherry,
Inner City,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
KRS-One,
Yaz,
Tubeway Army,
AZ,
Brass Construction,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crash Course in Science,
Altered Images,
Roxy Music,
Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe, Be Bop Deluxe.
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.