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 Benin and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 The Detroit Cobras to the techno 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells 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 a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
New York Dolls,
Circle Jerks,
The American Breed,
The Neon Judgement,
Wolf Eyes,
Organ,
Brick,
Swans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Adolescents,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Amon Düül II,
Jeff Lynne,
Ice-T,
Tubeway Army,
Wire,
Terry Callier,
Carl Craig,
Johnny Clarke,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Altered Images,
Essential Logic,
Kas Product,
Lucky Dragons,
Guru Guru,
Joe Smooth,
The Cure,
Donald Byrd,
Juan Atkins,
Bauhaus,
The Golliwogs,
The Fall,
Bluetip,
La Düsseldorf,
Angry Samoans,
Stereo Dub,
The Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
ABC,
Ituana,
Eli Mardock,
The New Christs,
Erasure,
Warsaw,
Eric Dolphy,
Desert Stars,
The Fugs,
Index,
Wasted Youth,
The Red Krayola,
Popol Vuh,
Nas,
The Misunderstood,
Bang On A Can,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Talk Talk,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bush Tetras,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.