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 Australia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Alice Coltrane to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Byrd,
Royal Trux,
Zapp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
The Sonics,
Rapeman,
Cymande,
Circle Jerks,
John Foxx,
Minnie Riperton,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Amon Düül,
Guru Guru,
Livin' Joy,
The Blues Magoos,
Donny Hathaway,
Organ,
U.S. Maple,
Brass Construction,
Dawn Penn,
Bill Near,
The United States of America,
Charles Mingus,
The Red Krayola,
The Dead C,
Ornette Coleman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
David McCallum,
Smog,
B.T. Express,
Toni Rubio,
X-101,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Index,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Interpol,
Ponytail,
Popol Vuh,
The Standells,
Roxette,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sun Ra,
Aloha Tigers,
ABC,
The Names,
Black Flag,
Negative Approach,
Intrusion,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
Symarip,
World's Most,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.