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 Cameroon and from Seoul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Black Dice to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
The Pop Group,
FM Einheit,
Maurizio,
Joyce Sims,
Boredoms,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Modern Lovers,
Dave Gahan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Radio Birdman,
Nico,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dawn Penn,
Eli Mardock,
The Mummies,
Jacques Brel,
Smog,
Unwound,
Angry Samoans,
The Index,
Suicide,
Lucky Dragons,
Neu!,
Derrick Morgan,
Newcleus,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Motions,
These Immortal Souls,
John Foxx,
Black Sheep,
Ultravox,
Hoover,
The Raincoats,
Hot Snakes,
Cal Tjader,
Yusef Lateef,
Connie Case,
Aswad,
Sandy B,
Gang of Four,
Lindisfarne,
Alphaville,
Robert Wyatt,
Echospace,
Nick Fraelich,
The Beau Brummels,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
The Monks,
Arcadia,
Don Cherry,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.