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 South Africa and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Suburban Knight to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
T.S.O.L.,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Easy Going,
Eddi Front,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terry Callier,
Rod Modell,
The Real Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Cramps,
The Gap Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Country Teasers,
Los Fastidios,
Average White Band,
Chris Corsano,
Morten Harket,
David Bowie,
The Barracudas,
Procol Harum,
Hoover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
kango's stein massive,
The Neon Judgement,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mummies,
Kool Moe Dee,
B.T. Express,
Cameo,
Accadde A,
Electric Prunes,
Matthew Bourne,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tres Demented,
JFA,
Sexual Harrassment,
DJ Sneak,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lower 48,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gladiators,
Wolf Eyes,
The Names,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gang Gang Dance,
Television Personalities,
Eurythmics,
Barrington Levy,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Alton Ellis,
Stiv Bators,
Sonic Youth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Vainqueur,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.