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 Ireland and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Fire Engines to the grunge 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Arcadia,
The Dead C,
Wally Richardson,
Unwound,
Interpol,
ABBA,
Bush Tetras,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Sonics,
Ohio Players,
Essential Logic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Icehouse,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
Intrusion,
Sight & Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pagans,
Qualms,
Dennis Brown,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dirtbombs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
cv313,
The American Breed,
Howard Jones,
Faraquet,
Anakelly,
Fela Kuti,
The Vogues,
the Association,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Echospace,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fuzztones,
Moss Icon,
E-Dancer,
Marc Almond,
Sällskapet,
Skarface,
Absolute Body Control,
Jacob Miller,
Gang Green,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Sheep,
The Victims,
LL Cool J,
Panda Bear,
Joey Negro,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.