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 Korea South and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Throbbing Gristle to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Moby Grape,
The Cure,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ice-T,
E-Dancer,
the Swans,
Henry Cow,
Gong,
the Normal,
Scion,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
The Blues Magoos,
David Axelrod,
Smog,
Essential Logic,
Bush Tetras,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Massinfluence,
Harry Pussy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Motorama,
Minutemen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Niagra,
The Move,
Sandy B,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mad Mike,
The Happenings,
Khruangbin,
Glenn Branca,
Joyce Sims,
John Lydon,
Susan Cadogan,
Sällskapet,
Rekid,
Pole,
AZ,
Avey Tare,
The Kinks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The J.B.'s,
Can,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Radiohead,
Delon & Dalcan,
Robert Görl,
Circle Jerks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.