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 Turkey and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stockholm Monsters,
In Retrospect,
the Sonics,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Magazine,
Don Cherry,
Barclay James Harvest,
Henry Cow,
Sonic Youth,
Jeff Mills,
the Slits,
Scott Walker,
Franke,
Rekid,
Grauzone,
Interpol,
Rhythm & Sound,
Quando Quango,
Glenn Branca,
Archie Shepp,
Spoonie Gee,
Donald Byrd,
Cabaret Voltaire,
PIL,
Lucky Dragons,
48th St. Collective,
The Gun Club,
Ponytail,
Sparks,
Y Pants,
The Dave Clark Five,
Piero Umiliani,
Whodini,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pulsallama,
Altered Images,
The Monks,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Quadrant,
Joe Finger,
The Moleskins,
Anakelly,
The Trojans,
The Martian,
Liliput,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The New Christs,
The Red Krayola,
Sexual Harrassment,
Susan Cadogan,
Nick Fraelich,
DJ Sneak,
Yaz,
Grey Daturas,
Patti Smith,
Black Pus,
Bob Dylan,
Aural Exciters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.