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 Ukraine and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Blancmange to the funk 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Wally Richardson,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Holt,
The Angels of Light,
Bang On A Can,
Erykah Badu,
Tres Demented,
Blossom Toes,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Human League,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warsaw,
Gang Green,
The Vogues,
Tubeway Army,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Offenders,
Scott Walker,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
Niagra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crooked Eye,
Nik Kershaw,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sandy B,
Unrelated Segments,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Wake,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Infiniti,
Spandau Ballet,
Gabor Szabo,
Sister Nancy,
Desert Stars,
The Buckinghams,
Jandek,
Suburban Knight,
Scientists,
June Days,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Knickerbockers,
Chrome,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pere Ubu,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Alison Limerick,
Delta 5,
The Cowsills,
Kenny Larkin,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Arab on Radar,
Country Teasers,
Dead Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Circle Jerks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Skaos,
Fluxion,
Negative Approach,
H. Thieme,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.