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 Iran and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator 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 Gastr Del Sol to the grunge 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Gun Club,
The Modern Lovers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Franke,
Brass Construction,
One Last Wish,
F. McDonald,
Josef K,
Gang Starr,
Ohio Players,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Magma,
Bang On A Can,
John Lydon,
Monolake,
Theoretical Girls,
John Holt,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Au Pairs,
Swell Maps,
Flash Fearless,
Silicon Teens,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Juan Atkins,
Sex Pistols,
Loose Ends,
Yaz,
Masters at Work,
The Searchers,
10cc,
Rakim,
Quando Quango,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Alphaville,
Cybotron,
Brothers Johnson,
Warren Ellis,
Hoover,
ABC,
Avey Tare,
Scientists,
Audionom,
Jeff Lynne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bauhaus,
Graham Central Station,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Wake,
The Moody Blues,
Royal Trux,
Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Shadows of Knight,
Spoonie Gee,
Mars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Leaves,
Susan Cadogan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.