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 Syria and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Urselle to the punk 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Trumans Water,
The Victims,
Easy Going,
Pulsallama,
R.M.O.,
Oblivians,
Public Enemy,
The J.B.'s,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Womack,
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
Tubeway Army,
Funky Four + One,
Moss Icon,
Reagan Youth,
Boredoms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chris & Cosey,
Don Cherry,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Slick Rick,
Altered Images,
The United States of America,
The Black Dice,
the Human League,
Rod Modell,
Kas Product,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gang Green,
The Divine Comedy,
Charles Mingus,
Suicide,
Ohio Players,
Chrome,
One Last Wish,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Model 500,
Section 25,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smiths,
Dark Day,
Jimmy McGriff,
Saccharine Trust,
Donny Hathaway,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young,
Wire,
Thompson Twins,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Names,
Deakin,
Sugar Minott,
Radiohead,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.