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 Tanzania and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 guitar 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 Crime to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Marcia Griffiths,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Letta Mbulu,
Patti Smith,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tears for Fears,
K-Klass,
The Misunderstood,
Spandau Ballet,
The Velvet Underground,
The Wake,
Neu!,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fugs,
Piero Umiliani,
Nils Olav,
Ronnie Foster,
Angry Samoans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kerrie Biddell,
B.T. Express,
U.S. Maple,
Funky Four + One,
Pierre Henry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Al Stewart,
The Star Department,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Standells,
Leonard Cohen,
The Kinks,
Visage,
Unwound,
The Techniques,
UT,
Fluxion,
The Barracudas,
Black Pus,
Hot Snakes,
The Victims,
Fad Gadget,
Derrick May,
Fela Kuti,
Index,
Pole,
Aaron Thompson,
Rosa Yemen,
Harmonia,
Camouflage,
Dead Boys,
The Toasters,
Q and Not U,
Echospace,
James White and The Blacks,
John Coltrane,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
David Bowie,
Eve St. Jones,
Jandek,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.