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 Djibouti and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Japan to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Scientists,
Mo-Dettes,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bootsy Collins,
Stockholm Monsters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Television,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
The Stooges,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blake Baxter,
Spandau Ballet,
The Skatalites,
Urselle,
The Martian,
Tommy Roe,
Second Layer,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
Darondo,
Minor Threat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Vladislav Delay,
Circle Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
The Standells,
Blancmange,
a-ha,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
World's Most,
Charles Mingus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Laurel Aitken,
Sun City Girls,
The Saints,
The Dave Clark Five,
Adolescents,
Jacques Brel,
Jawbox,
The Music Machine,
The Sonics,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Radiohead,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Grauzone,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Shadows of Knight,
Electric Prunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warsaw,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.