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 Korea North and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord 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 The Alarm Clocks to the rock 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Pop Group,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dorothy Ashby,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
LL Cool J,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Graham Central Station,
The Smoke,
Nico,
Depeche Mode,
Con Funk Shun,
The Martian,
The Zeros,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rod Modell,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minnie Riperton,
the Human League,
Radiopuhelimet,
Idris Muhammad,
The Monochrome Set,
Grey Daturas,
New Age Steppers,
Kurtis Blow,
K-Klass,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wings,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Public Enemy,
The Knickerbockers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Divine Comedy,
Tommy Roe,
Patti Smith,
Royal Trux,
Roxy Music,
Scientists,
Make Up,
48th St. Collective,
Alphaville,
Bush Tetras,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minor Threat,
Brothers Johnson,
a-ha,
T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L..
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.