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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Camouflage to the dance 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Buzzcocks,
The Residents,
The Vogues,
Gregory Isaacs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Barracudas,
Marine Girls,
The Slits,
Lee Hazlewood,
Harmonia,
Jeff Mills,
Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Royal Trux,
Hot Snakes,
Harry Pussy,
Desert Stars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Janne Schatter,
The Motions,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
U.S. Maple,
Bluetip,
Black Moon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delon & Dalcan,
KRS-One,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Deepchord,
The Wake,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Germs,
Minor Threat,
Stetsasonic,
Anthony Braxton,
Blossom Toes,
Half Japanese,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Amon Düül,
The Alarm Clocks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul II Soul,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pole,
The Buckinghams,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Funky Four + One,
Fat Boys,
Accadde A,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Busters,
Reagan Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.