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 Honduras and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Dead Boys,
Bush Tetras,
The Count Five,
Connie Case,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Das Ding,
Crime,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brothers Johnson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eurythmics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boz Scaggs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oneida,
The Barracudas,
John Cale,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ronnie Foster,
Jandek,
Scrapy,
The J.B.'s,
the Germs,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rod Modell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cal Tjader,
B.T. Express,
Byron Stingily,
48th St. Collective,
Minny Pops,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Angels of Light,
The Grass Roots,
Ultravox,
The Names,
Oblivians,
Scan 7,
Black Sheep,
Nils Olav,
Wolf Eyes,
Eli Mardock,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Offenders,
Soul Sonic Force,
Skarface,
Smog,
Ten City,
Essential Logic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sarah Menescal,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Duran Duran,
The Blues Magoos,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.