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 Syria and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Slackers to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Talk Talk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minutemen,
D'Angelo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Trojans,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Sound,
The Toasters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blackbyrds,
Brick,
The Barracudas,
Urselle,
New York Dolls,
The Tremeloes,
ABC,
Gang Green,
The Saints,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Country Teasers,
Derrick Morgan,
PIL,
Chris Corsano,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Aural Exciters,
Eric Copeland,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Graham Central Station,
Parry Music,
Spandau Ballet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Second Layer,
Bobby Sherman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sonics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris & Cosey,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marmalade,
The Golliwogs,
Godley & Creme,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
In Retrospect,
MC5,
Rakim,
The Stooges,
The Dirtbombs,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.