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 Nauru and from Columbus.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Stereo Dub to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Skatalites,
the Bar-Kays,
Kaleidoscope,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
kango's stein massive,
Jeff Lynne,
Guru Guru,
Sight & Sound,
Mantronix,
Suicide,
Black Pus,
Eurythmics,
Faraquet,
The Busters,
Roger Hodgson,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Motions,
Interpol,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
Zero Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Bananas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Patti Smith,
L. Decosne,
The Red Krayola,
The Gap Band,
The Count Five,
Quando Quango,
Quadrant,
Stereo Dub,
Bill Wells,
The Gladiators,
Barry Ungar,
Smog,
Pulsallama,
Gabor Szabo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rites of Spring,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cramps,
June Days,
John Cale,
Brand Nubian,
Wings,
a-ha,
Bob Dylan,
Tim Buckley,
The Modern Lovers,
Matthew Bourne,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Happenings,
Swans,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Young Rascals,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.