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 Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Vladislav Delay to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Make Up,
Nas,
Johnny Clarke,
Rites of Spring,
Monks,
Darondo,
China Crisis,
Gichy Dan,
Pagans,
Eric Dolphy,
Fad Gadget,
Maurizio,
Thompson Twins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stereo Dub,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fear,
Lightning Bolt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radio Birdman,
Negative Approach,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grauzone,
These Immortal Souls,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Detroit Cobras,
Don Cherry,
Saccharine Trust,
John Lydon,
the Sonics,
Television Personalities,
Massinfluence,
Easy Going,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Pretty Things,
Andrew Hill,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Anakelly,
Scientists,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sun City Girls,
Hardrive,
48th St. Collective,
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
This Heat,
Niagra,
Sam Rivers,
The J.B.'s,
Yaz,
Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
The Mojo Men,
Surgeon,
Scrapy,
Deakin,
Warsaw,
Bob Dylan,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.