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 Samoa and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 X-101 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Lee Hazlewood,
La Düsseldorf,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
Gerry Rafferty,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Piero Umiliani,
The Star Department,
Main Source,
Magazine,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Toasters,
L. Decosne,
Loose Ends,
Bronski Beat,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Sonics,
Nas,
Camouflage,
Joensuu 1685,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gichy Dan,
Graham Central Station,
Spandau Ballet,
Banda Bassotti,
Sun City Girls,
Pagans,
Cecil Taylor,
The Shadows of Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Knickerbockers,
Sex Pistols,
the Slits,
Pet Shop Boys,
EPMD,
The Gories,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pussy Galore,
Young Marble Giants,
Masters at Work,
David Axelrod,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Robert Hood,
The Neon Judgement,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
X-102,
Sister Nancy,
The Mummies,
Whodini,
Gong,
Fugazi,
Grey Daturas,
John Foxx,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mighty Diamonds,
48th St. Collective,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.