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 Angola and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Deakin to the crunk 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Dead Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Pere Ubu,
Godley & Creme,
Lee Hazlewood,
Skaos,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sound,
Little Man,
The Cure,
Yusef Lateef,
Procol Harum,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Shadows of Knight,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Birthday Party,
Saccharine Trust,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Monolake,
Pole,
The Stooges,
Flipper,
The Mojo Men,
CMW,
Scientists,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Unwound,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Leaves,
The Count Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rekid,
Excepter,
The Searchers,
Essential Logic,
The Slits,
Lungfish,
Shoche,
Severed Heads,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Offenders,
Model 500,
Au Pairs,
Bauhaus,
Delta 5,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Thee Headcoats,
Leonard Cohen,
David McCallum,
the Soft Cell,
Eve St. Jones,
Eden Ahbez,
The Standells,
Hashim,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.