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 Niger and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minutemen to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Wasted Youth,
Trumans Water,
kango's stein massive,
Gang of Four,
Graham Central Station,
The Angels of Light,
Eli Mardock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Angry Samoans,
Minny Pops,
Ponytail,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Neon Judgement,
The Move,
Lightning Bolt,
Zero Boys,
10cc,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Desert Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Tubeway Army,
E-Dancer,
The Buckinghams,
Harry Pussy,
The Cowsills,
EPMD,
The Zeros,
Metal Thangz,
The Fire Engines,
Newcleus,
Brick,
The Last Poets,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Radio Birdman,
Saccharine Trust,
Harmonia,
H. Thieme,
Index,
Rosa Yemen,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Coltrane,
Roger Hodgson,
Yusef Lateef,
Matthew Halsall,
The Real Kids,
Pet Shop Boys,
ABC,
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Niagra,
Easy Going,
Black Sheep,
Scientists,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amon Düül II,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sällskapet,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.