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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 The Gories to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
H. Thieme,
Big Daddy Kane,
The United States of America,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultra Naté,
The Gap Band,
The Pretty Things,
The J.B.'s,
The Motions,
Pagans,
Alison Limerick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Knickerbockers,
Yazoo,
Mars,
Royal Trux,
Tears for Fears,
Nation of Ulysses,
D'Angelo,
Stereo Dub,
Jawbox,
Maleditus Sound,
Agitation Free,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Motorama,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Das Ding,
Neil Young,
Gastr Del Sol,
Q and Not U,
These Immortal Souls,
F. McDonald,
Animal Collective,
Barbara Tucker,
Main Source,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dirtbombs,
Crash Course in Science,
MDC,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Kinks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Schoolly D,
L. Decosne,
Sixth Finger,
Deadbeat,
The Black Dice,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fuzztones,
Rotary Connection,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Barracudas,
Amazonics,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.