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 Yemen and from New York.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sex Pistols 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Moon,
Theoretical Girls,
Intrusion,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dead C,
The Tremeloes,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Real Kids,
Don Cherry,
Mars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skarface,
Joey Negro,
New Age Steppers,
Scott Walker,
Ponytail,
Faraquet,
Ken Boothe,
Rakim,
Nils Olav,
Pharoah Sanders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Lydon,
The Fortunes,
Bill Wells,
Donald Byrd,
Fat Boys,
Second Layer,
Goldenarms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Au Pairs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gun Club,
Barry Ungar,
Kurtis Blow,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jandek,
Deakin,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Golliwogs,
Howard Jones,
Rapeman,
The Selecter,
Black Sheep,
Nirvana,
The Buckinghams,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Maurizio,
Absolute Body Control,
Hardrive,
The Zeros,
Carl Craig,
Rod Modell,
Junior Murvin,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.