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 Peru and from Woodstock.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the jazz 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fugs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fat Boys,
Symarip,
Camberwell Now,
The Invisible,
Peter & Gordon,
Jawbox,
The Grass Roots,
Y Pants,
Wolf Eyes,
Con Funk Shun,
Aural Exciters,
Scion,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Human League,
Blancmange,
Crash Course in Science,
Babytalk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
JFA,
Section 25,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Pus,
The Buckinghams,
Dorothy Ashby,
Henry Cow,
This Heat,
The Dead C,
Schoolly D,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Normal,
Sound Behaviour,
Crime,
Brick,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lakeside,
Bobby Byrd,
Sixth Finger,
Guru Guru,
Can,
Suburban Knight,
Goldenarms,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Halsall,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Scan 7,
Rod Modell,
Audionom,
The Divine Comedy,
Shuggie Otis,
Andrew Hill,
The Last Poets,
The Mojo Men,
The Moody Blues,
a-ha,
Suicide,
Alice Coltrane,
Procol Harum,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.