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 Belarus and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Harpers Bizarre to the grunge 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Main Source,
The Neon Judgement,
Monks,
Severed Heads,
Gang Starr,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Young Rascals,
Patti Smith,
Man Parrish,
The Fall,
The Smoke,
Marc Almond,
Pharoah Sanders,
ABC,
Masters at Work,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camouflage,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Au Pairs,
Jawbox,
Flipper,
Lakeside,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Moon,
OOIOO,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Human League,
David Axelrod,
Von Mondo,
Black Flag,
Circle Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Skaos,
The Names,
The Cure,
Mo-Dettes,
Mantronix,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fuzztones,
The Raincoats,
Lalann,
Wasted Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hardrive,
The Fire Engines,
Quadrant,
Model 500,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Barracudas,
Juan Atkins,
Fluxion,
Schoolly D,
Faraquet,
The Black Dice,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.