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 Cameroon and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Ronnie Foster,
The Velvet Underground,
Hardrive,
Eric Copeland,
Maurizio,
Ponytail,
Average White Band,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bob Dylan,
The Mummies,
Tears for Fears,
Ohio Players,
Junior Murvin,
Prince Buster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Qualms,
Soft Machine,
Mars,
The Buckinghams,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Underground Resistance,
The Grass Roots,
Smog,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David McCallum,
Scratch Acid,
Soft Cell,
Masters at Work,
Motorama,
Mary Jane Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Human League,
Crime,
Skaos,
Funkadelic,
Vladislav Delay,
The Monks,
Todd Terry,
Cal Tjader,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Main Source,
Connie Case,
Television Personalities,
Little Man,
Bill Near,
The Walker Brothers,
Audionom,
Ultra Naté,
Circle Jerks,
Roger Hodgson,
The Leaves,
June of 44,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Mojo Men,
Young Marble Giants,
Joe Smooth,
Rhythm & Sound,
KRS-One,
Bill Wells,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.