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 Finland and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar 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 Patti Smith to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
the Soft Cell,
Cymande,
The Move,
Delta 5,
Livin' Joy,
Little Man,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wasted Youth,
U.S. Maple,
Don Cherry,
Sex Pistols,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Toasters,
Black Sheep,
Reuben Wilson,
Spoonie Gee,
Eurythmics,
The Human League,
KRS-One,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Archie Shepp,
F. McDonald,
This Heat,
The Saints,
Liliput,
Deadbeat,
Mandrill,
Black Pus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter and Kerry,
June Days,
the Slits,
Hardrive,
Nik Kershaw,
Nirvana,
Brothers Johnson,
Sister Nancy,
Kurtis Blow,
Joey Negro,
Bill Near,
Kaleidoscope,
Lyres,
The Sound,
Brass Construction,
The Mummies,
Eric Copeland,
X-Ray Spex,
Alton Ellis,
Anakelly,
OOIOO,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Associates,
Lou Christie,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Green,
Moby Grape,
The Five Americans,
Tomorrow,
In Retrospect,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.