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 Haiti and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Happenings to the rock 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Names,
Soulsonic Force,
Rosa Yemen,
Boredoms,
Parry Music,
Quando Quango,
Basic Channel,
Dave Gahan,
Barbara Tucker,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marmalade,
The Divine Comedy,
June of 44,
Radiohead,
CMW,
John Coltrane,
Davy DMX,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Buzzcocks,
The Last Poets,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Beau Brummels,
Crime,
Johnny Clarke,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sister Nancy,
The Moleskins,
Junior Murvin,
Mad Mike,
Cecil Taylor,
Rod Modell,
The Modern Lovers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ronan,
F. McDonald,
Little Man,
Barry Ungar,
Inner City,
Stiv Bators,
Spoonie Gee,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mission of Burma,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
Cheater Slicks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Moon,
K-Klass,
The United States of America,
Marine Girls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.