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 Malawi and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy 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?
Metal Thangz,
Underground Resistance,
Joe Smooth,
Cameo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
Soulsonic Force,
Nas,
Arab on Radar,
Barry Ungar,
Warren Ellis,
Livin' Joy,
Organ,
Niagra,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Lydon,
Rotary Connection,
Smog,
Idris Muhammad,
Big Daddy Kane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
The Wake,
Fluxion,
F. McDonald,
Yellowson,
The Victims,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rufus Thomas,
L. Decosne,
Black Sheep,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Skarface,
Gang Gang Dance,
Malaria!,
Reuben Wilson,
The Human League,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eurythmics,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Khruangbin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cluster,
Drexciya,
Godley & Creme,
Model 500,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dual Sessions,
Todd Rundgren,
Von Mondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Con Funk Shun,
Radiohead,
Soft Cell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Motorama,
The Toasters,
H. Thieme,
Davy DMX,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.