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 Libya and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Tremeloes to the jazz 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Royal Trux,
The Beau Brummels,
Whodini,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Divine Comedy,
Cheater Slicks,
MC5,
Deadbeat,
Smog,
The Golliwogs,
B.T. Express,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
Godley & Creme,
UT,
Dead Boys,
The Alarm Clocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grauzone,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Bananas,
The Buckinghams,
Shuggie Otis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Blake Baxter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Icehouse,
Bobby Byrd,
Negative Approach,
Jeru the Damaja,
Urselle,
Youth Brigade,
These Immortal Souls,
Inner City,
Freddie Wadling,
Qualms,
The Misunderstood,
Janne Schatter,
The Wake,
Maurizio,
Quantec,
Q and Not U,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kerri Chandler,
Marshall Jefferson,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
David Axelrod,
Brick,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare,
Sun City Girls,
Boredoms,
Hashim,
China Crisis,
F. McDonald,
Pere Ubu,
Hardrive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scratch Acid,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.