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 Antigua and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Shadows of Knight to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Pere Ubu,
Sex Pistols,
Pole,
a-ha,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kool Moe Dee,
Liliput,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Black Dice,
Juan Atkins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Funkadelic,
Cybotron,
Nick Fraelich,
Massinfluence,
Slave,
Zapp,
Japan,
AZ,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lou Reed,
Gang of Four,
Sandy B,
Desert Stars,
Vainqueur,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cramps,
Sonic Youth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Buckinghams,
Main Source,
The Skatalites,
Lucky Dragons,
Crime,
The Mojo Men,
Sarah Menescal,
Bob Dylan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Litter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Angry Samoans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Von Mondo,
The Dirtbombs,
Motorama,
The Five Americans,
Pierre Henry,
Marvin Gaye,
Hot Snakes,
Technova,
the Germs,
Isaac Hayes,
Theoretical Girls,
Slick Rick,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.