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 Fiji and from Tehran.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 '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 Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
Dual Sessions,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Germs,
The Fortunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Skriet,
Brass Construction,
The Dirtbombs,
Crime,
Spoonie Gee,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eddi Front,
Deadbeat,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pylon,
Black Sheep,
Sparks,
Newcleus,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
Guru Guru,
Crooked Eye,
the Fania All-Stars,
Warsaw,
Jesper Dahlback,
Swans,
Suicide,
Slick Rick,
The Saints,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yazoo,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
F. McDonald,
Radio Birdman,
Amazonics,
The Barracudas,
The Cowsills,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Electric Prunes,
Johnny Osbourne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Smiths,
Sonny Sharrock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liliput,
Joyce Sims,
Josef K,
Scientists,
The Dead C,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Oneida,
Marine Girls,
Gong,
Bang On A Can,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.