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 Chad and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Last Poets 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Angels of Light,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Mummies,
E-Dancer,
Sugar Minott,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Yellowson,
James White and The Blacks,
Prince Buster,
Lou Christie,
Kaleidoscope,
Groovy Waters,
the Germs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gang Green,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Velvet Underground,
New York Dolls,
The Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
The Victims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy Collins,
Duran Duran,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Carl Craig,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Starr,
New Age Steppers,
X-Ray Spex,
Agitation Free,
Soft Machine,
Lower 48,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Brand Nubian,
The Cowsills,
The Human League,
Pantytec,
Aloha Tigers,
Warren Ellis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rod Modell,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Reed,
The Blackbyrds,
The Index,
Sandy B,
Harry Pussy,
Harmonia,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Byrd,
The Smoke,
John Lydon,
Archie Shepp,
Surgeon,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.