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 Vietnam and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Royal Trux,
the Slits,
Funky Four + One,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Buzzcocks,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
The Fortunes,
Joyce Sims,
Vainqueur,
Juan Atkins,
Robert Wyatt,
Lyres,
Rosa Yemen,
Rites of Spring,
Unwound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gong,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skriet,
Bobby Sherman,
Aaron Thompson,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monks,
Quando Quango,
Nas,
The Wake,
Minny Pops,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cameo,
Matthew Halsall,
Barry Ungar,
the Human League,
Eurythmics,
Tom Boy,
Stereo Dub,
The Kinks,
Mo-Dettes,
Todd Rundgren,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Niagra,
Yaz,
Lindisfarne,
Robert Hood,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Neon Judgement,
Motorama,
Scratch Acid,
Underground Resistance,
New York Dolls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fugs,
the Germs,
Eli Mardock,
The Five Americans,
The Moleskins,
Hoover,
June of 44,
8 Eyed Spy,
Neil Young,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.