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 Slovenia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Doobie Brothers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Half Japanese,
La Düsseldorf,
Hasil Adkins,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
Absolute Body Control,
Dark Day,
Al Stewart,
Don Cherry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gladiators,
Derrick May,
The Cure,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABBA,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry's Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Josef K,
Freddie Wadling,
Skaos,
The Young Rascals,
The Vogues,
Stetsasonic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sex Pistols,
Pantaleimon,
Erykah Badu,
Nas,
James White and The Blacks,
The Saints,
MDC,
Isaac Hayes,
Dead Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vainqueur,
Excepter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Howard Jones,
Black Bananas,
The Durutti Column,
The Busters,
Minor Threat,
Brick,
The Real Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Bill Near,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Germs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Last Poets,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.