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 Yemen and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Standells to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Oneida,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deepchord,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobby Sherman,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott Heron,
Erasure,
48th St. Collective,
Whodini,
Agent Orange,
John Cale,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Normal,
Soul II Soul,
Dead Boys,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tres Demented,
Inner City,
Pulsallama,
Khruangbin,
Flash Fearless,
Bauhaus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Zero Boys,
The Dead C,
L. Decosne,
Jeff Mills,
Gong,
Sex Pistols,
Electric Prunes,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Fraelich,
Don Cherry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Velvet Underground,
Sparks,
Mars,
Danielle Patucci,
John Foxx,
Talk Talk,
Shoche,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rotary Connection,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
Eric Dolphy,
Spandau Ballet,
H. Thieme,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Carl Craig,
The Mojo Men,
The Flesh Eaters,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
The Offenders,
Rosa Yemen,
Gichy Dan,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.