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 Algeria and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Interpol to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rufus Thomas,
Rapeman,
Sandy B,
Parry Music,
Cluster,
Amon Düül,
Oneida,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tomorrow,
The Angels of Light,
Charles Mingus,
Freddie Wadling,
Suicide,
Mr. Review,
Monks,
Little Man,
Funkadelic,
Bill Wells,
Duran Duran,
Rites of Spring,
Warren Ellis,
Swell Maps,
the Slits,
X-101,
Chris Corsano,
Grauzone,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Connie Case,
The Moody Blues,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Trojans,
Radiohead,
Model 500,
The Dirtbombs,
Darondo,
Fatback Band,
John Holt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wolf Eyes,
Au Pairs,
Davy DMX,
Drexciya,
Swans,
Sällskapet,
Goldenarms,
Fela Kuti,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hot Snakes,
EPMD,
Oblivians,
Echospace,
Avey Tare,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
The New Christs,
Lakeside,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.