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 El Salvador and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 X-Ray Spex to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
The Selecter,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
the Sonics,
ABC,
Joy Division,
Toni Rubio,
Camberwell Now,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mad Mike,
Subhumans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pierre Henry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Trumans Water,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Machine,
The Invisible,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Bar-Kays,
John Holt,
The Velvet Underground,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Mills,
The Martian,
The Raincoats,
The Blackbyrds,
Dawn Penn,
The Slackers,
Blancmange,
Franke,
The Five Americans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eli Mardock,
Make Up,
Yellowson,
Pussy Galore,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Terry,
Anakelly,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nirvana,
Flash Fearless,
The Standells,
Sugar Minott,
Reagan Youth,
Janne Schatter,
Sällskapet,
A Certain Ratio,
Buzzcocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.