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 Dominican Republic and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 808 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 Camouflage to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mummies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sun City Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
ABBA,
EPMD,
the Human League,
The Standells,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Niagra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Intrusion,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Five Americans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Walker Brothers,
Pantaleimon,
Ituana,
The Litter,
D'Angelo,
Loose Ends,
Echospace,
K-Klass,
X-Ray Spex,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
The Gap Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crooked Eye,
Mission of Burma,
Easy Going,
Lou Reed,
Gong,
Juan Atkins,
Stetsasonic,
Quando Quango,
Kurtis Blow,
L. Decosne,
the Association,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minor Threat,
Althea and Donna,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Popol Vuh,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Selecter,
Main Source,
Lungfish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Basic Channel,
Roxette,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.