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 Jamaica and from Salvador.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Cybotron to the rap 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
Lucky Dragons,
The Count Five,
EPMD,
48th St. Collective,
Alison Limerick,
Wasted Youth,
Ultravox,
Black Bananas,
Circle Jerks,
Fat Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Desert Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Bill Wells,
Lindisfarne,
Parry Music,
Derrick May,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bill Near,
Fluxion,
The Zeros,
FM Einheit,
Bang On A Can,
Yaz,
Fatback Band,
The Remains,
Joe Smooth,
Soulsonic Force,
Trumans Water,
Fugazi,
Bobby Byrd,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dirtbombs,
Letta Mbulu,
D'Angelo,
Junior Murvin,
Godley & Creme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ohio Players,
Half Japanese,
Ice-T,
DNA,
Bad Manners,
Electric Prunes,
Smog,
Arthur Verocai,
Ken Boothe,
Pulsallama,
R.M.O.,
Main Source,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
ABC,
Cheater Slicks,
The Beau Brummels,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bob Dylan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sex Pistols,
Interpol,
Camberwell Now,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.