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 New Zealand 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mars to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Cowsills,
Minutemen,
L. Decosne,
Tim Buckley,
Black Pus,
Inner City,
Gang Starr,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Tremeloes,
Ronnie Foster,
Todd Rundgren,
Andrew Hill,
The Dave Clark Five,
Agent Orange,
OOIOO,
The Evens,
Bad Manners,
Nirvana,
Masters at Work,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fluxion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Man Parrish,
The Last Poets,
Lee Hazlewood,
Monks,
The Skatalites,
The Star Department,
Donald Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
CMW,
Interpol,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The United States of America,
the Bar-Kays,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
a-ha,
Sonic Youth,
Minor Threat,
The Cramps,
Pierre Henry,
The Barracudas,
Angry Samoans,
Hashim,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heaven 17,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marine Girls,
The Real Kids,
Hoover,
Maurizio,
Sam Rivers,
Liliput,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Niagra,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.