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 Guatemala and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stereo Dub,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
K-Klass,
Moss Icon,
New Age Steppers,
Fatback Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rufus Thomas,
Infiniti,
Reuben Wilson,
Blossom Toes,
The Moleskins,
Nas,
Tres Demented,
Moby Grape,
Livin' Joy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Barrington Levy,
Unwound,
Wings,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joensuu 1685,
Ice-T,
B.T. Express,
Marshall Jefferson,
Television,
Thee Headcoats,
48th St. Collective,
The Mummies,
Neu!,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Happenings,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
Pere Ubu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Con Funk Shun,
Barry Ungar,
DNA,
Ohio Players,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
Henry Cow,
DJ Style,
Depeche Mode,
Lower 48,
The Gladiators,
Urselle,
Scion,
Half Japanese,
The Fortunes,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smiths,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.