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 Montenegro and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator 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 Hoover to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Barry Ungar,
Wolf Eyes,
MDC,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Agent Orange,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mars,
Robert Hood,
Slave,
Eve St. Jones,
Marine Girls,
the Sonics,
Altered Images,
Y Pants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
World's Most,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Television,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ronan,
China Crisis,
In Retrospect,
Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cluster,
Scientists,
Swans,
Urselle,
Basic Channel,
The Remains,
The Star Department,
Qualms,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Real Kids,
U.S. Maple,
Nico,
John Cale,
Joe Smooth,
Alphaville,
The Red Krayola,
Dead Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
Animal Collective,
Rod Modell,
Echospace,
Angry Samoans,
Popol Vuh,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bill Near,
Kurtis Blow,
Drexciya,
Juan Atkins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Saints,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.