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 Australia and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 American Breed to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
The Busters,
The Residents,
The Litter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Letta Mbulu,
Yaz,
Anakelly,
Brass Construction,
Soft Cell,
Barrington Levy,
Avey Tare,
The Real Kids,
The Cure,
Lucky Dragons,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Mummies,
Magazine,
Monolake,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Happenings,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Terry,
Sun City Girls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Infiniti,
Suburban Knight,
Tubeway Army,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Eric Dolphy,
Scratch Acid,
The Slits,
Second Layer,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Association,
Moby Grape,
Sonic Youth,
The Red Krayola,
The Smoke,
Deepchord,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Monks,
Colin Newman,
Dead Boys,
The Motions,
Hoover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxette,
Tres Demented,
Radio Birdman,
Funky Four + One,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Germs,
Newcleus,
The Trojans,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.