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 Belarus and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Don Cherry to the disco 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Bauhaus,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slick Rick,
Suicide,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wally Richardson,
The Standells,
The Victims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
EPMD,
Lee Hazlewood,
MC5,
Wire,
Todd Terry,
Moby Grape,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sam Rivers,
Brand Nubian,
Procol Harum,
Soft Machine,
Donald Byrd,
The Monochrome Set,
Bootsy Collins,
Roger Hodgson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New Order,
Warsaw,
Pantaleimon,
Skaos,
Intrusion,
Metal Thangz,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Minnie Riperton,
the Germs,
The Smiths,
Crooked Eye,
Angry Samoans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Osbourne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Q and Not U,
Todd Rundgren,
Colin Newman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Moleskins,
LL Cool J,
Depeche Mode,
Funky Four + One,
Dual Sessions,
Eve St. Jones,
ABC,
Royal Trux,
X-101,
The Searchers,
Reagan Youth,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.