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 Botswana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 The Misunderstood to the grunge 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Swans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flipper,
Babytalk,
Saccharine Trust,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fire Engines,
Josef K,
Gichy Dan,
Letta Mbulu,
Skaos,
Von Mondo,
The Dirtbombs,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Urselle,
Gastr Del Sol,
Althea and Donna,
Half Japanese,
Don Cherry,
Camouflage,
Sonny Sharrock,
Graham Central Station,
The Human League,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Q65,
Fear,
Eli Mardock,
Sällskapet,
Fat Boys,
Aural Exciters,
Little Man,
Tommy Roe,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
Deakin,
Flash Fearless,
Camberwell Now,
Cybotron,
Crime,
Gang of Four,
The American Breed,
The Shadows of Knight,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Echospace,
Gang Green,
Can,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Grauzone,
Silicon Teens,
The Monks,
Johnny Clarke,
Wally Richardson,
Lou Christie,
Curtis Mayfield,
Henry Cow,
Nirvana,
Bill Wells,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.