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 Haiti and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jeru the Damaja to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
D'Angelo,
Khruangbin,
John Lydon,
Bronski Beat,
Unrelated Segments,
Letta Mbulu,
Barbara Tucker,
Scion,
The Blackbyrds,
Ossler,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bad Manners,
Arcadia,
The Monks,
The Birthday Party,
Terry Callier,
Minutemen,
Depeche Mode,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Connie Case,
The Gap Band,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra,
Dark Day,
Pulsallama,
The Gladiators,
The Seeds,
The Sonics,
John Holt,
Idris Muhammad,
Gabor Szabo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crime,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Flag,
New Age Steppers,
Slick Rick,
The Velvet Underground,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fear,
Marvin Gaye,
In Retrospect,
Joe Finger,
Surgeon,
Dead Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hot Snakes,
The Mojo Men,
Guru Guru,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bill Near,
Delta 5,
The Divine Comedy,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ice-T,
DNA,
Ten City,
Albert Ayler,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.