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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gories to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
The Last Poets,
Girls At Our Best!,
Reuben Wilson,
the Bar-Kays,
Chrome,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Aswad,
Maurizio,
The Busters,
Davy DMX,
Gastr Del Sol,
Idris Muhammad,
Hot Snakes,
Barrington Levy,
Pierre Henry,
Slick Rick,
Das Ding,
Lindisfarne,
The Smoke,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Nick Fraelich,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Sonics,
Glenn Branca,
Yellowson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Star Department,
Infiniti,
Q65,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bluetip,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Steve Hackett,
Skaos,
Mandrill,
Soft Machine,
Dead Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Eurythmics,
Leonard Cohen,
Ossler,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Interpol,
The Monks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rekid,
Letta Mbulu,
Gichy Dan,
Don Cherry,
The Skatalites,
Rites of Spring,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cure,
The Blackbyrds,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Vogues,
Cymande,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.