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 Syria and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultimate Spinach to the techno 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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
T.S.O.L.,
Wally Richardson,
Lucky Dragons,
The Saints,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Buzzcocks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Althea and Donna,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gang of Four,
Tears for Fears,
Brass Construction,
Rapeman,
Gastr Del Sol,
Franke,
Ronan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
La Düsseldorf,
Mantronix,
The Names,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultravox,
Ronnie Foster,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Inner City,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blancmange,
ABBA,
Aswad,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Moby Grape,
Panda Bear,
Roger Hodgson,
The Litter,
Fear,
The Five Americans,
Aural Exciters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Clear Light,
Saccharine Trust,
Audionom,
Cymande,
Grauzone,
Cecil Taylor,
In Retrospect,
Oblivians,
Magazine,
Joensuu 1685,
Absolute Body Control,
The Buckinghams,
Davy DMX,
John Holt,
Scrapy,
The Smoke,
Jawbox,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.