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 Czech Republic and from Tokyo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Theoretical Girls to the dance 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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
The Kinks,
Magma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hot Snakes,
John Coltrane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sister Nancy,
Quadrant,
Animal Collective,
Yaz,
Isaac Hayes,
Monolake,
Minor Threat,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Association,
Faraquet,
Tomorrow,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Charles Mingus,
MDC,
Camouflage,
ABC,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
Eden Ahbez,
Deepchord,
Pagans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Peter & Gordon,
Rod Modell,
Delta 5,
Morten Harket,
Tim Buckley,
Moby Grape,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Wells,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Order,
Outsiders,
Spandau Ballet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Blossom Toes,
Masters at Work,
The Searchers,
Depeche Mode,
Iggy Pop,
Pierre Henry,
Stiv Bators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Michelle Simonal,
Howard Jones,
The Fortunes,
The American Breed,
Todd Terry,
Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter.
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.