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 Seychelles 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
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 Deakin to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Moby Grape,
Heaven 17,
Jesper Dahlback,
DJ Sneak,
Franke,
Soul Sonic Force,
Babytalk,
Fluxion,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gichy Dan,
Marshall Jefferson,
Funkadelic,
Archie Shepp,
Kerri Chandler,
the Swans,
Gang Green,
Derrick Morgan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Fall,
This Heat,
The Litter,
The Monochrome Set,
Mary Jane Girls,
Oneida,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Buckinghams,
The Invisible,
Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Eli Mardock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dead Boys,
Suicide,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Motions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Derrick May,
The Busters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lungfish,
Funky Four + One,
Arthur Verocai,
The Blackbyrds,
Barrington Levy,
Yazoo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fire Engines,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Foxx,
The Mummies,
Schoolly D,
Rotary Connection,
John Holt,
Dawn Penn,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.