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 Hungary and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the rap 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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Swell Maps,
James White and The Blacks,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fad Gadget,
Soft Cell,
Motorama,
Idris Muhammad,
This Heat,
Newcleus,
Oneida,
Big Daddy Kane,
Peter and Kerry,
The Black Dice,
Whodini,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Porter Ricks,
Monks,
Ultravox,
Supertramp,
Skriet,
Monolake,
Agitation Free,
The Detroit Cobras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cluster,
Lakeside,
Absolute Body Control,
Marine Girls,
Brand Nubian,
The Gun Club,
The Cramps,
One Last Wish,
Accadde A,
Black Moon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Make Up,
The Monochrome Set,
Unwound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faraquet,
The Monks,
Mr. Review,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blossom Toes,
China Crisis,
Gang Green,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Schoolly D,
Groovy Waters,
Mantronix,
The Index,
Nico,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pantaleimon,
Jacques Brel,
Duran Duran,
Ponytail,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.