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 Honduras and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 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 Throbbing Gristle to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Bad Manners,
The Busters,
The Angels of Light,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Lydon,
F. McDonald,
Marc Almond,
Todd Terry,
Warsaw,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rhythm & Sound,
Andrew Hill,
Moss Icon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gun Club,
Kaleidoscope,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Style,
Fear,
Youth Brigade,
the Swans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
L. Decosne,
The Dead C,
Icehouse,
Tears for Fears,
Q and Not U,
Procol Harum,
Yazoo,
Pulsallama,
The Techniques,
Qualms,
Janne Schatter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeff Mills,
JFA,
Easy Going,
Y Pants,
Alphaville,
Monolake,
Judy Mowatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Reagan Youth,
Black Pus,
The Toasters,
Nik Kershaw,
Nico,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skaos,
T.S.O.L.,
Young Marble Giants,
Simply Red,
Underground Resistance,
The Fortunes,
Freddie Wadling,
the Soft Cell,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.