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 Azerbaijan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
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 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 Lou Reed 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 Junior Murvin to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
the Normal,
Pole,
Silicon Teens,
Niagra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DJ Style,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Massinfluence,
Scratch Acid,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scrapy,
The Zeros,
Schoolly D,
Little Man,
Camberwell Now,
The Gories,
Television,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wings,
KRS-One,
Adolescents,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Yellowson,
Letta Mbulu,
Crash Course in Science,
Smog,
Das Ding,
Black Pus,
Neu!,
Donald Byrd,
John Foxx,
Ossler,
Zapp,
Cluster,
The Leaves,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Associates,
Eden Ahbez,
The Angels of Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deepchord,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultra Naté,
Sun Ra,
Byron Stingily,
Arthur Verocai,
Idris Muhammad,
Fugazi,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Warren Ellis,
MDC,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Al Stewart,
Spoonie Gee,
Oneida,
Tomorrow,
Ituana,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.