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 Czech Republic and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
Black Pus,
Laurel Aitken,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Junior Murvin,
Sonic Youth,
Popol Vuh,
Roy Ayers,
The Human League,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Negative Approach,
Archie Shepp,
Ossler,
Lalann,
Black Sheep,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vainqueur,
Funkadelic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Todd Terry,
Warren Ellis,
Maurizio,
Dead Boys,
The Techniques,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grey Daturas,
X-101,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Max Romeo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fuzztones,
The Sound,
D'Angelo,
Crooked Eye,
T.S.O.L.,
Chrome,
kango's stein massive,
Ken Boothe,
La Düsseldorf,
Rufus Thomas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pantaleimon,
Dennis Brown,
New York Dolls,
the Germs,
The Index,
Arcadia,
Masters at Work,
Tres Demented,
Bad Manners,
Ten City,
The Monks,
Roxy Music,
Schoolly D,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Dave Gahan,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.