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 Georgia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Faust to the funk 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Bananas,
Nick Fraelich,
Dennis Brown,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rufus Thomas,
Fatback Band,
Scratch Acid,
John Cale,
Nik Kershaw,
Moebius,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Knickerbockers,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Almond,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Slits,
Buzzcocks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Green,
Isaac Hayes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aural Exciters,
The Real Kids,
Flipper,
Archie Shepp,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack,
Ice-T,
Moby Grape,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Groovy Waters,
Aloha Tigers,
Graham Central Station,
Peter & Gordon,
Popol Vuh,
Yellowson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Make Up,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Parrish,
Fear,
Stereo Dub,
Ronan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
Skaos,
Quando Quango,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Gun Club,
Outsiders,
Interpol,
The Mojo Men,
Pierre Henry,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Black Dice,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fugs,
Juan Atkins,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.