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 Colombia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
June Days,
Ultra Naté,
Flamin' Groovies,
Visage,
La Düsseldorf,
The Residents,
Radiohead,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Index,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
Public Image Ltd.,
Robert Görl,
Freddie Wadling,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Quantec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Blancmange,
Skarface,
Matthew Halsall,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
Minutemen,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pantytec,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kas Product,
Goldenarms,
The Gladiators,
Dennis Brown,
Jeff Lynne,
Stiv Bators,
Bill Near,
Toni Rubio,
Eric Copeland,
Brick,
Lucky Dragons,
Ornette Coleman,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Evens,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New York Dolls,
The Busters,
Scrapy,
Aaron Thompson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tres Demented,
Q and Not U,
Prince Buster,
Henry Cow,
Bush Tetras,
Sonic Youth,
Scratch Acid,
Young Marble Giants,
Godley & Creme,
Byron Stingily,
Rod Modell,
Ken Boothe,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.