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 Brazil and from Bremen.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 The Invisible to the rap 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Brick,
Henry Cow,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
In Retrospect,
Juan Atkins,
X-101,
Second Layer,
Sällskapet,
New Order,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nirvana,
Alice Coltrane,
Jandek,
Guru Guru,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ohio Players,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hardrive,
Dark Day,
The Neon Judgement,
Pussy Galore,
The Associates,
Mission of Burma,
Zapp,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Infiniti,
The Gories,
Don Cherry,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ornette Coleman,
Sparks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
La Düsseldorf,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Malaria!,
the Association,
Unwound,
Country Teasers,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Womack,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The J.B.'s,
Kas Product,
The Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Knickerbockers,
Hashim,
Monolake,
Erykah Badu,
Little Man,
Chris Corsano,
The Techniques,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.