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 Belarus and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Blues Magoos to the electroclash 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 Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Lou Reed,
Idris Muhammad,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jandek,
Pere Ubu,
Terry Callier,
Oblivians,
48th St. Collective,
Hot Snakes,
Yusef Lateef,
Silicon Teens,
Television,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Pus,
Y Pants,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fortunes,
the Swans,
Arab on Radar,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
The Star Department,
The Smiths,
X-Ray Spex,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jacob Miller,
Mantronix,
Public Enemy,
Half Japanese,
Essential Logic,
Schoolly D,
Scrapy,
Dead Boys,
The Martian,
Vainqueur,
Blossom Toes,
Dennis Brown,
Franke,
The Shadows of Knight,
Unwound,
Laurel Aitken,
Joensuu 1685,
Kayak,
Brick,
David Axelrod,
Sun City Girls,
Pulsallama,
Kerri Chandler,
Sister Nancy,
The Invisible,
Mad Mike,
Organ,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gastr Del Sol,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
Delta 5,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.