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 Guinea-Bissau and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Liliput to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 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 arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
CMW,
The Pretty Things,
Shoche,
The Monks,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Index,
Siglo XX,
The Modern Lovers,
Ohio Players,
The Gap Band,
Bronski Beat,
Sandy B,
Kurtis Blow,
The Happenings,
Glenn Branca,
F. McDonald,
The Evens,
Colin Newman,
Moby Grape,
The Searchers,
Ken Boothe,
Main Source,
Agent Orange,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-Ray Spex,
Zapp,
Cheater Slicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
The Mummies,
Goldenarms,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Leonard Cohen,
Bang On A Can,
Peter and Kerry,
Darondo,
The Toasters,
The Gun Club,
Stockholm Monsters,
Absolute Body Control,
Sex Pistols,
Depeche Mode,
Severed Heads,
The Selecter,
Joe Finger,
Funky Four + One,
Deepchord,
ABC,
Index,
Soulsonic Force,
China Crisis,
Morten Harket,
Carl Craig,
Crime,
Infiniti,
Sonny Sharrock,
James White and The Blacks,
Mission of Burma,
Terrestrial Tones,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.