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 Chile and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roxette,
Letta Mbulu,
Marshall Jefferson,
Johnny Clarke,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pierre Henry,
Skaos,
Adolescents,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Remains,
Ice-T,
The Index,
Barrington Levy,
Basic Channel,
Todd Rundgren,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Isaac Hayes,
The Move,
T.S.O.L.,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tubeway Army,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Goldenarms,
the Association,
Angry Samoans,
Erasure,
Siglo XX,
Gang Starr,
D'Angelo,
Cluster,
Sonic Youth,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Byron Stingily,
Bauhaus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Gun Club,
Soul Sonic Force,
Brand Nubian,
OOIOO,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
MC5,
Silicon Teens,
The J.B.'s,
Altered Images,
Magazine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smiths,
Pere Ubu,
Echospace,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Drexciya,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DNA,
Dual Sessions,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.