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 Zimbabwe and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joy Division to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Hasil Adkins,
Severed Heads,
T.S.O.L.,
The Knickerbockers,
Roger Hodgson,
The Sonics,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Neon Judgement,
The Dirtbombs,
Joe Smooth,
Rites of Spring,
David McCallum,
Minny Pops,
Make Up,
The Smiths,
New Age Steppers,
John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
Pagans,
Fatback Band,
Dead Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Inner City,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alphaville,
Simply Red,
The Walker Brothers,
Magma,
The Red Krayola,
Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Deadbeat,
Can,
Hashim,
R.M.O.,
The Offenders,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
Con Funk Shun,
The Associates,
Alice Coltrane,
The Happenings,
Deepchord,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yaz,
Judy Mowatt,
Absolute Body Control,
Lalann,
World's Most,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rotary Connection,
Peter & Gordon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eric Dolphy,
Scan 7,
JFA,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.