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 Costa Rica and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Archie Shepp to the punk 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wire,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fortunes,
The Monochrome Set,
H. Thieme,
K-Klass,
Blossom Toes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The United States of America,
Unrelated Segments,
Fifty Foot Hose,
AZ,
The Gun Club,
Nas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lightning Bolt,
Underground Resistance,
Marcia Griffiths,
Heaven 17,
Mr. Review,
Interpol,
Roy Ayers,
Supertramp,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Severed Heads,
EPMD,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wings,
The Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marmalade,
Camberwell Now,
Faraquet,
June Days,
Mo-Dettes,
The Real Kids,
Lower 48,
Alice Coltrane,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Smiths,
Anthony Braxton,
Soul Sonic Force,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Goldenarms,
Sister Nancy,
Minor Threat,
The Techniques,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Monks,
The J.B.'s,
kango's stein massive,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.