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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Cale to the grunge 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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter 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?
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Martian,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Hood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Youth Brigade,
Echospace,
The Raincoats,
The Divine Comedy,
Siglo XX,
The Offenders,
Dead Boys,
The Kinks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Prince Buster,
Roxette,
Stetsasonic,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
Yazoo,
The Saints,
Kaleidoscope,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bizarre Inc.,
Flipper,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Zeros,
Lindisfarne,
Blossom Toes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Hasil Adkins,
Crash Course in Science,
the Slits,
Byron Stingily,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
This Heat,
Bad Manners,
L. Decosne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gladiators,
The Standells,
The Doors,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Red Krayola,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tommy Roe,
The Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
Scott Walker,
Brick,
Archie Shepp,
Liliput,
Quantec,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.