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 Mexico and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Letta Mbulu to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Jerry's Kids,
Lungfish,
Agent Orange,
Hashim,
The Black Dice,
Ten City,
Los Fastidios,
Desert Stars,
Main Source,
The Victims,
The Fortunes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Misunderstood,
Iggy Pop,
The Golliwogs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Anakelly,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fugs,
Crash Course in Science,
Young Marble Giants,
Depeche Mode,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scrapy,
John Holt,
Second Layer,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brothers Johnson,
Popol Vuh,
Warsaw,
The Five Americans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Unrelated Segments,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Gories,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Pus,
John Cale,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eric Copeland,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moebius,
Rites of Spring,
David Bowie,
Minor Threat,
Guru Guru,
Wire,
Pantaleimon,
Freddie Wadling,
Nik Kershaw,
48th St. Collective,
Dead Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
Robert Görl,
Suburban Knight,
L. Decosne,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.