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 Thailand 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Camouflage to the electroclash 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
Man Eating Sloth,
Masters at Work,
The Knickerbockers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
The Tremeloes,
New York Dolls,
Magma,
David Axelrod,
The Golliwogs,
L. Decosne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Bananas,
Chris Corsano,
Babytalk,
Sun City Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cecil Taylor,
Q65,
Sarah Menescal,
DNA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soul II Soul,
Eden Ahbez,
Ralphi Rosario,
Chrome,
Morten Harket,
a-ha,
Robert Görl,
Altered Images,
Hardrive,
Negative Approach,
Procol Harum,
The Blues Magoos,
James White and The Blacks,
Malaria!,
H. Thieme,
KRS-One,
Steve Hackett,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Silicon Teens,
Fad Gadget,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Byrd,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Smoke,
The Buckinghams,
Kerri Chandler,
Roxy Music,
Gang of Four,
Buzzcocks,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Pop Group,
John Holt,
Mo-Dettes,
D'Angelo,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.