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 Korea South and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Byron Stingily to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
Parry Music,
Stetsasonic,
U.S. Maple,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dead Boys,
The Cramps,
Jacob Miller,
Electric Prunes,
Minutemen,
Steve Hackett,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ponytail,
The Walker Brothers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eli Mardock,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Martian,
Au Pairs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Toasters,
Sister Nancy,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Gang Dance,
Interpol,
ABBA,
John Cale,
L. Decosne,
ABC,
Amon Düül II,
Thompson Twins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Birthday Party,
Blossom Toes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alphaville,
Liliput,
Freddie Wadling,
The Smoke,
New Age Steppers,
Delta 5,
Skarface,
Don Cherry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Dolphy,
Mars,
Robert Wyatt,
Sarah Menescal,
Joensuu 1685,
Dave Gahan,
The Neon Judgement,
These Immortal Souls,
The Five Americans,
Rapeman,
Lou Christie,
The Slackers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lee Hazlewood,
Groovy Waters,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.