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 Turkmenistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar 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 Suicide to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Archie Shepp,
The Count Five,
Kayak,
Radio Birdman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sällskapet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Neon Judgement,
Morten Harket,
Bootsy Collins,
The Blues Magoos,
Jeru the Damaja,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fluxion,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eurythmics,
Toni Rubio,
Circle Jerks,
The Cowsills,
Basic Channel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marmalade,
Angry Samoans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crooked Eye,
Marc Almond,
Pierre Henry,
David Axelrod,
The Modern Lovers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
kango's stein massive,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Fad Gadget,
Black Bananas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unrelated Segments,
The Flesh Eaters,
Loose Ends,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Deadbeat,
Khruangbin,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy,
Surgeon,
Judy Mowatt,
The Kinks,
Connie Case,
Albert Ayler,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
LL Cool J,
The Zeros,
Faraquet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Martian,
the Soft Cell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.