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 Sudan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cure to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images 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?
Y Pants,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantaleimon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Finger,
The Neon Judgement,
Cluster,
Prince Buster,
Minutemen,
Echospace,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nik Kershaw,
ABC,
Blancmange,
Sixth Finger,
Blake Baxter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
Janne Schatter,
Minny Pops,
Malaria!,
Danielle Patucci,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roy Ayers,
Faust,
Dorothy Ashby,
Arab on Radar,
Warsaw,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gang of Four,
The Sound,
Max Romeo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marine Girls,
Flipper,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Henry Cow,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cheater Slicks,
Neil Young,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Al Stewart,
KRS-One,
Chris & Cosey,
Whodini,
The Dead C,
Graham Central Station,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moleskins,
Spoonie Gee,
Saccharine Trust,
Johnny Clarke,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fugs,
Aaron Thompson,
Lalann,
Kayak,
The Cramps,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.