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 Nepal and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Donald Fagen 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 Birthday Party to the techno 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum 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 sitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Byron Stingily,
Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bill Near,
The Remains,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Steve Hackett,
Funky Four + One,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Slits,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mr. Review,
Das Ding,
Bobby Sherman,
8 Eyed Spy,
UT,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Vainqueur,
Crash Course in Science,
Dawn Penn,
Symarip,
Fatback Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Quantec,
DJ Style,
Kurtis Blow,
Niagra,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gang Green,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ultra Naté,
One Last Wish,
La Düsseldorf,
48th St. Collective,
Amazonics,
Suicide,
Moby Grape,
Skarface,
Pylon,
David Bowie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cal Tjader,
Schoolly D,
Don Cherry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joyce Sims,
Joey Negro,
The Divine Comedy,
Boz Scaggs,
Chrome,
OOIOO,
Avey Tare,
Sällskapet,
Leonard Cohen,
Flash Fearless,
MDC,
Henry Cow,
Althea and Donna,
Guru Guru,
Reuben Wilson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Juan Atkins,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.