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 Benin and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Susan Cadogan to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
The Fugs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eve St. Jones,
Depeche Mode,
Index,
Dead Boys,
Schoolly D,
Glenn Branca,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Hood,
Grauzone,
The Last Poets,
Symarip,
David Axelrod,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dave Clark Five,
Danielle Patucci,
Bronski Beat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Bad Manners,
Jeff Lynne,
La Düsseldorf,
Jacob Miller,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Byron Stingily,
Al Stewart,
Amon Düül,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantaleimon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
Inner City,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wire,
Shuggie Otis,
Brand Nubian,
Gastr Del Sol,
Reuben Wilson,
Parry Music,
The Angels of Light,
The Martian,
Radio Birdman,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Spoonie Gee,
Erasure,
Unrelated Segments,
The Grass Roots,
Lebanon Hanover,
H. Thieme,
Isaac Hayes,
Derrick Morgan,
Roy Ayers,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.