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 Zimbabwe and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Glambeats Corp. to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Black Pus,
Monks,
Alton Ellis,
EPMD,
Angry Samoans,
The Blues Magoos,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flipper,
Fluxion,
Patti Smith,
Sällskapet,
The Gap Band,
The Cure,
David Axelrod,
Deakin,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Inner City,
The Electric Prunes,
Tommy Roe,
Tom Boy,
Stetsasonic,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Yaz,
The Remains,
Icehouse,
The Fortunes,
the Slits,
Neu!,
Brass Construction,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Lydon,
The Misunderstood,
Rites of Spring,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pantaleimon,
The Wake,
The Searchers,
Alphaville,
Quantec,
Dennis Brown,
Sight & Sound,
Severed Heads,
Das Ding,
Iggy Pop,
Eddi Front,
Nas,
Agent Orange,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
B.T. Express,
Frankie Knuckles,
Average White Band,
The Moody Blues,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.