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 Somalia and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Yusef Lateef to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Mo-Dettes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
Kerrie Biddell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Letta Mbulu,
ABC,
Tommy Roe,
Porter Ricks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sixth Finger,
Depeche Mode,
Andrew Hill,
Faust,
Tears for Fears,
Goldenarms,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Laurel Aitken,
Newcleus,
Vladislav Delay,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cluster,
Eurythmics,
Gabor Szabo,
Excepter,
The Real Kids,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Starr,
Heaven 17,
Tom Boy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ohio Players,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
CMW,
Connie Case,
Spandau Ballet,
The Names,
Pere Ubu,
Nirvana,
Infiniti,
Whodini,
A Certain Ratio,
Soft Cell,
Todd Rundgren,
Groovy Waters,
Lalann,
Pole,
Country Teasers,
Slick Rick,
The Monks,
Jacques Brel,
Black Bananas,
Chris & Cosey,
The Sonics,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.