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 Slovenia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Knickerbockers to the punk 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
The Birthday Party,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Depeche Mode,
Swans,
MDC,
the Bar-Kays,
Lindisfarne,
China Crisis,
Warren Ellis,
the Normal,
Eddi Front,
Lightning Bolt,
Rites of Spring,
48th St. Collective,
Ohio Players,
Electric Prunes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Animal Collective,
The Selecter,
The Trojans,
Spoonie Gee,
Lungfish,
Pussy Galore,
Funkadelic,
Stereo Dub,
Sonic Youth,
Camouflage,
Jacques Brel,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pole,
Crispian St. Peters,
Surgeon,
Pulsallama,
The J.B.'s,
Wolf Eyes,
The Smiths,
The Mojo Men,
Barry Ungar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Faust,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pierre Henry,
Deadbeat,
Anthony Braxton,
Desert Stars,
Nick Fraelich,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
R.M.O.,
Sight & Sound,
Arthur Verocai,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pagans,
Soft Machine,
Sun City Girls,
Lalann,
The Last Poets,
Henry Cow,
The Names,
Oneida,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.