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 France and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sparks,
R.M.O.,
Mo-Dettes,
Buzzcocks,
Flash Fearless,
Avey Tare,
Joensuu 1685,
Nik Kershaw,
Surgeon,
Aaron Thompson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gichy Dan,
Soft Machine,
Little Man,
Minutemen,
Alice Coltrane,
The Wake,
Echospace,
Sun City Girls,
The Doors,
X-101,
The Slackers,
Procol Harum,
The Barracudas,
Fear,
The Beau Brummels,
Yusef Lateef,
Eric Dolphy,
Sarah Menescal,
Joe Finger,
Bauhaus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Sheep,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
Soul II Soul,
Marvin Gaye,
Man Parrish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultra Naté,
Animal Collective,
Susan Cadogan,
Pierre Henry,
Suicide,
Sandy B,
Skarface,
Spoonie Gee,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Funkadelic,
Q65,
Stereo Dub,
Sex Pistols,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Quadrant,
Sun Ra,
Henry Cow,
James White and The Blacks,
Joey Negro,
The Raincoats,
Pulsallama,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.