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 Belgium and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Jawbox to the grunge 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Angels of Light,
Angry Samoans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Easy Going,
Babytalk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marvin Gaye,
Brass Construction,
JFA,
The Count Five,
Royal Trux,
Rosa Yemen,
the Soft Cell,
Barclay James Harvest,
Hardrive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Urselle,
The Electric Prunes,
Cameo,
Joensuu 1685,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Maurizio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ken Boothe,
Spoonie Gee,
Symarip,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Stooges,
Mark Hollis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cramps,
The Grass Roots,
Barrington Levy,
Godley & Creme,
Bronski Beat,
Kayak,
X-102,
Banda Bassotti,
Boz Scaggs,
Peter & Gordon,
Sugar Minott,
Mo-Dettes,
Freddie Wadling,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mandrill,
Eve St. Jones,
Essential Logic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wolf Eyes,
Fear,
Vainqueur,
Silicon Teens,
Susan Cadogan,
Robert Hood,
Malaria!,
Pere Ubu,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.