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 Japan and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Walker Brothers to the grime 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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?
Hasil Adkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Black Dice,
John Holt,
the Association,
Amon Düül,
Soulsonic Force,
Donald Byrd,
Scan 7,
Gil Scott Heron,
Saccharine Trust,
Mo-Dettes,
The Saints,
Robert Hood,
Nirvana,
F. McDonald,
Rotary Connection,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Amon Düül II,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bill Near,
Mr. Review,
Darondo,
UT,
Yaz,
Monks,
Eden Ahbez,
Shoche,
T. Rex,
The Pretty Things,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Slits,
Gang Starr,
John Foxx,
Severed Heads,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
James White and The Blacks,
Cluster,
Chris & Cosey,
Chris Corsano,
the Germs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Finger,
Johnny Osbourne,
Funkadelic,
Mandrill,
Marmalade,
Barry Ungar,
Shuggie Otis,
June of 44,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marine Girls,
Quando Quango,
Ten City,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.