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 St Lucia and from London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Monolake,
Royal Trux,
Skriet,
Eric Copeland,
The J.B.'s,
Charles Mingus,
Lou Reed,
Skarface,
JFA,
Eddi Front,
Lindisfarne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rites of Spring,
Eli Mardock,
Robert Hood,
Bad Manners,
London Community Gospel Choir,
B.T. Express,
David Bowie,
Liliput,
Kenny Larkin,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Agent Orange,
Erasure,
Japan,
Wire,
Flamin' Groovies,
Excepter,
Althea and Donna,
Gabor Szabo,
Vladislav Delay,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Severed Heads,
The Dave Clark Five,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Flash Fearless,
The Techniques,
Hashim,
Circle Jerks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Underground Resistance,
Oblivians,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cure,
U.S. Maple,
The Misunderstood,
Ronan,
Moby Grape,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kayak,
Popol Vuh,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Sheep,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mojo Men,
Scott Walker,
OOIOO,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.