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 Oman and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Fela Kuti 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Bobby Womack,
Harmonia,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Neon Judgement,
The Blues Magoos,
Brand Nubian,
Lindisfarne,
Matthew Halsall,
The Leaves,
Unrelated Segments,
June Days,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Divine Comedy,
Second Layer,
Nirvana,
Scientists,
Simply Red,
Moby Grape,
Joey Negro,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Underground Resistance,
These Immortal Souls,
Rotary Connection,
Fear,
Jawbox,
Tom Boy,
Mantronix,
the Normal,
The Offenders,
L. Decosne,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faust,
Godley & Creme,
Pierre Henry,
Shoche,
the Germs,
New Order,
The Doobie Brothers,
David Bowie,
Harry Pussy,
Barry Ungar,
Reuben Wilson,
Babytalk,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dead Boys,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Prunes,
PIL,
Metal Thangz,
Royal Trux,
Throbbing Gristle,
Youth Brigade,
Icehouse,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fall,
Brass Construction,
Circle Jerks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.