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 Cyprus and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 These Immortal Souls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Al Stewart,
Nirvana,
H. Thieme,
The Stooges,
The Litter,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Names,
Big Daddy Kane,
China Crisis,
The Five Americans,
Sound Behaviour,
Country Teasers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Connie Case,
The Blues Magoos,
Pet Shop Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eden Ahbez,
Neil Young,
Camouflage,
Pole,
Mandrill,
Loose Ends,
Con Funk Shun,
Circle Jerks,
Yellowson,
The Durutti Column,
Warren Ellis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultimate Spinach,
Essential Logic,
Mark Hollis,
Cluster,
Bill Wells,
Gang of Four,
Theoretical Girls,
Henry Cow,
Jacques Brel,
Alton Ellis,
Soul II Soul,
Bobby Sherman,
The Velvet Underground,
Toni Rubio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Cale,
Fatback Band,
Eurythmics,
Masters at Work,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tommy Roe,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joe Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.