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 Pakistan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rock 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
The Kinks,
Mission of Burma,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Remains,
The Evens,
Frankie Knuckles,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Warsaw,
Spandau Ballet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Cramps,
Traffic Nightmare,
Parry Music,
Kerri Chandler,
U.S. Maple,
The Beau Brummels,
Eve St. Jones,
Chrome,
Pulsallama,
Q65,
Charles Mingus,
Dave Gahan,
Moebius,
The Gladiators,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Joensuu 1685,
Lyres,
The Saints,
Jerry's Kids,
Intrusion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Das Ding,
Todd Rundgren,
Pierre Henry,
Aaron Thompson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Schoolly D,
The Moleskins,
The Move,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
Michelle Simonal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Youth Brigade,
Minor Threat,
Robert Wyatt,
L. Decosne,
Derrick Morgan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dawn Penn,
Marine Girls,
The Toasters,
Bronski Beat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Enemy,
Kenny Larkin,
Quantec,
Shuggie Otis,
The Tremeloes,
Barbara Tucker,
Pere Ubu,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.