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 Burundi and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Hardrive to the punk 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Ronnie Foster,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Hood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxette,
Howard Jones,
Q and Not U,
B.T. Express,
Pole,
AZ,
Rekid,
Brass Construction,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Liliput,
Dawn Penn,
OOIOO,
Glenn Branca,
Moby Grape,
Bronski Beat,
The Grass Roots,
Iggy Pop,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dual Sessions,
The Names,
Crash Course in Science,
Blossom Toes,
Groovy Waters,
Lou Christie,
Johnny Clarke,
Slick Rick,
K-Klass,
Franke,
Lower 48,
X-Ray Spex,
Bob Dylan,
Joe Finger,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lalann,
Section 25,
Vainqueur,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Magma,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crime,
Throbbing Gristle,
Idris Muhammad,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Black Dice,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
The Flesh Eaters,
Drexciya,
Sight & Sound,
The Real Kids,
Interpol,
X-101,
Kayak,
Wings,
Reagan Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.