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 Senegal and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 The Litter to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Severed Heads,
Can,
The Slits,
The Litter,
Liliput,
Davy DMX,
Unrelated Segments,
Sun Ra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Letta Mbulu,
Agitation Free,
June of 44,
Stockholm Monsters,
DNA,
Bang On A Can,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
The Wake,
Deakin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fad Gadget,
Graham Central Station,
Quadrant,
Royal Trux,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fugs,
The Music Machine,
Yellowson,
Von Mondo,
Idris Muhammad,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
Terry Callier,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Charles Mingus,
Flipper,
Hashim,
Agent Orange,
Brand Nubian,
Ultimate Spinach,
Monolake,
Sex Pistols,
Scott Walker,
The Move,
Gastr Del Sol,
R.M.O.,
Joy Division,
Clear Light,
Kurtis Blow,
Yaz,
The Remains,
Neu!,
A Certain Ratio,
Aaron Thompson,
Niagra,
Popol Vuh,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Smoke,
Mr. Review,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.