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 East Timor and from London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 kango's stein massive to the grime 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Grauzone,
Nils Olav,
Drexciya,
R.M.O.,
EPMD,
Robert Hood,
The Buckinghams,
the Swans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Moss Icon,
Ultravox,
Suburban Knight,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang of Four,
Sex Pistols,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ronnie Foster,
Urselle,
Pantytec,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Outsiders,
Das Ding,
Carl Craig,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soft Machine,
Reuben Wilson,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers,
Rapeman,
Judy Mowatt,
Fluxion,
Lakeside,
Spandau Ballet,
Pantaleimon,
Infiniti,
The Happenings,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Blancmange,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tommy Roe,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Funkadelic,
Matthew Halsall,
James White and The Blacks,
Ice-T,
Cluster,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Magazine,
The Moody Blues,
Vladislav Delay,
Buzzcocks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Avey Tare,
Chris Corsano,
The Cowsills,
Crispy Ambulance,
Electric Prunes,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.