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 Honduras and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin 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 Gang Green to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Hasil Adkins,
The Beau Brummels,
Skarface,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Graham Central Station,
Sugar Minott,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Almond,
June of 44,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Simply Red,
The Kinks,
The Zeros,
The Mighty Diamonds,
James White and The Blacks,
Tommy Roe,
The Motions,
The Dirtbombs,
Sarah Menescal,
Camouflage,
Nico,
The Fall,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
The Martian,
Black Moon,
Fat Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Mad Mike,
Fear,
Swans,
Visage,
Q65,
Roger Hodgson,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott Heron,
China Crisis,
Malaria!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agent Orange,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Mummies,
Grauzone,
Lakeside,
Section 25,
Spoonie Gee,
Althea and Donna,
Chris Corsano,
Pulsallama,
Index,
Ultravox,
Rosa Yemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
KRS-One,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Standells,
Bobby Sherman,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.