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 United Kingdom and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
In Retrospect,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Associates,
Deakin,
Newcleus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Divine Comedy,
Fat Boys,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bizarre Inc.,
Amazonics,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Essential Logic,
Henry Cow,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Franke,
Masters at Work,
Bauhaus,
Jeff Mills,
The Dead C,
Intrusion,
Scion,
Barbara Tucker,
Anthony Braxton,
Ice-T,
Quando Quango,
Quantec,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Durutti Column,
Excepter,
La Düsseldorf,
Q and Not U,
The Kinks,
Angry Samoans,
Swell Maps,
The Black Dice,
kango's stein massive,
The Index,
Flash Fearless,
The Blues Magoos,
Hashim,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wolf Eyes,
The Evens,
Kerri Chandler,
Roxy Music,
Nas,
David Bowie,
Bluetip,
the Germs,
The Techniques,
the Normal,
Spoonie Gee,
Das Ding,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
B.T. Express,
Ronan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.