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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fortunes to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Image Ltd.,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Index,
Lightning Bolt,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Remains,
Sun Ra,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Metal Thangz,
Ken Boothe,
The Last Poets,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Albert Ayler,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Monks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Red Krayola,
The Leaves,
The Motions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Average White Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Spandau Ballet,
Toni Rubio,
Iggy Pop,
The Cramps,
Crash Course in Science,
The Smoke,
Pantytec,
Audionom,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flipper,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Boz Scaggs,
Jerry's Kids,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Victims,
The Electric Prunes,
Boredoms,
Porter Ricks,
Pierre Henry,
Thee Headcoats,
A Certain Ratio,
Warren Ellis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tubeway Army,
Jawbox,
Arcadia,
Can,
Lalo Schifrin,
MC5,
Rufus Thomas,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.