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 the UAE and from Sao Paulo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum 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 Pierre Henry to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Desert Stars,
MDC,
Colin Newman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Johnny Clarke,
Niagra,
Terry Callier,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roy Ayers,
New Age Steppers,
Visage,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soulsonic Force,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scrapy,
CMW,
Kenny Larkin,
Fear,
Harry Pussy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Skarface,
Aswad,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Buzzcocks,
Schoolly D,
Soft Cell,
Funky Four + One,
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
The Selecter,
June Days,
The Knickerbockers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chrome,
Minny Pops,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Doors,
The Buckinghams,
Alphaville,
Yellowson,
Fugazi,
Magma,
The Count Five,
Reuben Wilson,
Youth Brigade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Howard Jones,
The Real Kids,
Pussy Galore,
Stiv Bators,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marmalade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Television,
The Gladiators,
Flash Fearless,
Jandek,
John Lydon,
Saccharine Trust,
Letta Mbulu,
Trumans Water,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.