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 Syria and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dirtbombs,
Fugazi,
Chrome,
Fad Gadget,
Barrington Levy,
Severed Heads,
New Order,
Bronski Beat,
T.S.O.L.,
John Holt,
Maleditus Sound,
Can,
Mantronix,
Scion,
Colin Newman,
Arthur Verocai,
Lee Hazlewood,
Drive Like Jehu,
Livin' Joy,
E-Dancer,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
Skarface,
the Germs,
X-101,
Suburban Knight,
Ludus,
U.S. Maple,
Leonard Cohen,
Marcia Griffiths,
Negative Approach,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Smiths,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moebius,
World's Most,
The Kinks,
John Foxx,
The Beau Brummels,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Masters at Work,
David Axelrod,
The Litter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sun Ra,
Yellowson,
Scratch Acid,
Intrusion,
Amon Düül,
Bush Tetras,
Sugar Minott,
John Cale,
Pussy Galore,
The Human League,
ABBA,
Oblivians,
Deakin,
Index,
Lindisfarne,
X-102,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.