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 Tunisia and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bootsy Collins to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lindisfarne,
Cluster,
Pussy Galore,
Byron Stingily,
Mantronix,
Agent Orange,
Deepchord,
Bizarre Inc.,
Electric Prunes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Carl Craig,
The Fire Engines,
Sonic Youth,
Joe Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
Mo-Dettes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oblivians,
Metal Thangz,
These Immortal Souls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Das Ding,
Swell Maps,
Scion,
The Techniques,
Lou Christie,
Fad Gadget,
Lucky Dragons,
Loose Ends,
Ultra Naté,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Thompson Twins,
Faust,
Los Fastidios,
AZ,
Michelle Simonal,
Tom Boy,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joe Smooth,
Sarah Menescal,
Chrome,
Yaz,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
Robert Görl,
Youth Brigade,
Zero Boys,
Pylon,
Donald Byrd,
Reagan Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Barclay James Harvest,
Funkadelic,
The Blues Magoos,
Yazoo,
Godley & Creme,
Donny Hathaway,
Wasted Youth,
Television Personalities,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.