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 Lille.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Josef K,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Howard Jones,
Piero Umiliani,
The New Christs,
Radiohead,
Bill Near,
Johnny Clarke,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alice Coltrane,
The Wake,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bang On A Can,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Patti Smith,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cameo,
Joey Negro,
Pere Ubu,
Steve Hackett,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tres Demented,
The Trojans,
Index,
The Dirtbombs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pagans,
Stereo Dub,
Lou Reed,
Circle Jerks,
JFA,
LL Cool J,
Byron Stingily,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Bobby Sherman,
Eve St. Jones,
Barbara Tucker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Martian,
Eric Dolphy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crime,
Tom Boy,
China Crisis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Prince Buster,
Fluxion,
The Beau Brummels,
David Axelrod,
Pulsallama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Adolescents,
The Mojo Men,
Little Man,
Accadde A,
Warren Ellis,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.