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 Belize and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Index to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
Silicon Teens,
Smog,
U.S. Maple,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mission of Burma,
The Vogues,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jacob Miller,
Maurizio,
Warsaw,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Joe Finger,
Hoover,
Magazine,
The Happenings,
The Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Görl,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dennis Brown,
Ponytail,
Sun Ra,
Livin' Joy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Niagra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Glenn Branca,
Ken Boothe,
Roxy Music,
Todd Rundgren,
Derrick May,
Electric Prunes,
The Cowsills,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
Bobby Hutcherson,
This Heat,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aaron Thompson,
Severed Heads,
The Busters,
Alphaville,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mantronix,
Yusef Lateef,
Peter & Gordon,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-102,
Los Fastidios,
Colin Newman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Country Teasers,
Gang Green,
Fear,
Lakeside,
Donald Byrd,
Tim Buckley,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.