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 Malawi and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
The Gap Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pantytec,
Arab on Radar,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
Sex Pistols,
The Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
Agent Orange,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cure,
Gichy Dan,
Scion,
Spoonie Gee,
the Human League,
Black Flag,
Procol Harum,
Harry Pussy,
Rod Modell,
Urselle,
Kayak,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fugs,
Interpol,
The Selecter,
The Fall,
cv313,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Byron Stingily,
The Sonics,
David Bowie,
Smog,
Animal Collective,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oneida,
Andrew Hill,
Kaleidoscope,
Fear,
Duran Duran,
the Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
Vainqueur,
T.S.O.L.,
The Buckinghams,
The Durutti Column,
Severed Heads,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pierre Henry,
Moebius,
Warsaw,
Mission of Burma,
Godley & Creme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Clear Light,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.