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 Mozambique and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the 808 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 Bobby Byrd to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Barry Ungar,
Joey Negro,
The Cure,
Marine Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
Eric Copeland,
Dark Day,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül,
Cluster,
Grey Daturas,
Ultra Naté,
Neil Young,
Alphaville,
Stiv Bators,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wings,
Parry Music,
Blossom Toes,
Hasil Adkins,
Joyce Sims,
The United States of America,
Isaac Hayes,
Guru Guru,
Marcia Griffiths,
Camouflage,
Supertramp,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nick Fraelich,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pet Shop Boys,
Erasure,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sonny Sharrock,
Arab on Radar,
Freddie Wadling,
the Germs,
Gregory Isaacs,
New Age Steppers,
the Association,
Circle Jerks,
The Black Dice,
Eddi Front,
Pierre Henry,
Zapp,
Blancmange,
Lou Reed,
Faraquet,
The Mojo Men,
Ken Boothe,
Rakim,
DJ Sneak,
Intrusion,
Cecil Taylor,
Fela Kuti,
The Monks,
Leonard Cohen,
The J.B.'s,
Aloha Tigers,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.