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 Vietnam and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare 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 Andrew Hill to the grime 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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Panda Bear,
Tears for Fears,
The Offenders,
The Zeros,
Mission of Burma,
Blake Baxter,
Groovy Waters,
Howard Jones,
Alphaville,
Josef K,
Chris Corsano,
The Gories,
Warren Ellis,
Rites of Spring,
The Fuzztones,
Hashim,
The Sound,
The Tremeloes,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Misunderstood,
Depeche Mode,
Royal Trux,
Joe Finger,
The Remains,
Soul Sonic Force,
Al Stewart,
Fat Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sällskapet,
Pussy Galore,
David Axelrod,
Cluster,
Harmonia,
Sugar Minott,
Dual Sessions,
Bob Dylan,
LL Cool J,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Glenn Branca,
Clear Light,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wasted Youth,
Warsaw,
Simply Red,
Boredoms,
Aaron Thompson,
Suicide,
The Buckinghams,
The Leaves,
Robert Hood,
The Cramps,
Fad Gadget,
Sarah Menescal,
Zapp,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.