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 Milan.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Dead C to the grime 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantaleimon,
Index,
Niagra,
Fela Kuti,
Surgeon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pierre Henry,
Juan Atkins,
Freddie Wadling,
Jimmy McGriff,
Symarip,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Blossom Toes,
One Last Wish,
Mantronix,
Scratch Acid,
Josef K,
Gregory Isaacs,
B.T. Express,
Icehouse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Television Personalities,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fear,
Grey Daturas,
Gichy Dan,
Scientists,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Graham Central Station,
Sun Ra,
The Monochrome Set,
The Cowsills,
The Count Five,
48th St. Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deakin,
Infiniti,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Godley & Creme,
The Black Dice,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Matthew Bourne,
X-Ray Spex,
Little Man,
Agent Orange,
Minutemen,
Khruangbin,
The Young Rascals,
Cybotron,
The Pop Group,
Ultravox,
Moby Grape,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sparks,
Avey Tare,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Derrick May,
Marvin Gaye,
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.