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 Ethiopia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Agent Orange to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soul II Soul,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bauhaus,
Pantaleimon,
the Bar-Kays,
Lebanon Hanover,
F. McDonald,
Monks,
The Fugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Altered Images,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ludus,
Lucky Dragons,
Minutemen,
The Invisible,
Harry Pussy,
a-ha,
B.T. Express,
Nick Fraelich,
Rekid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Cowsills,
The Techniques,
Outsiders,
Anakelly,
Alton Ellis,
Cheater Slicks,
Smog,
Y Pants,
Laurel Aitken,
Average White Band,
Warsaw,
John Lydon,
Stiv Bators,
The Sonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Machine,
Bill Near,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Joy Division,
Fluxion,
Robert Wyatt,
Tears for Fears,
Amazonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Technova,
Pantytec,
John Foxx,
Chris Corsano,
the Swans,
Godley & Creme,
Robert Hood,
EPMD,
Radiohead,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.