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 Netherlands and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 marimba 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 Eddi Front to the techno 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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
cv313,
Terry Callier,
Bang On A Can,
The Barracudas,
The Litter,
Monks,
Depeche Mode,
Organ,
Tubeway Army,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drexciya,
Joe Smooth,
The Five Americans,
Ultra Naté,
Sound Behaviour,
E-Dancer,
Second Layer,
The Stooges,
Buzzcocks,
Ludus,
Aaron Thompson,
The Real Kids,
The J.B.'s,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Normal,
Camouflage,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABBA,
Neil Young,
D'Angelo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott Heron,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
Isaac Hayes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Excepter,
Heaven 17,
Eli Mardock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harry Pussy,
Man Parrish,
Vainqueur,
Erykah Badu,
Reagan Youth,
Ken Boothe,
Nico,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lalann,
10cc,
Sugar Minott,
Hot Snakes,
Blancmange,
The Gories,
Y Pants,
Nils Olav,
John Foxx,
Stereo Dub,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.