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 Saudi Arabia and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 MDC to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Grauzone,
Jacques Brel,
Bad Manners,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gories,
Surgeon,
Fatback Band,
Dead Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Ice-T,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Wake,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Near,
Donald Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
Little Man,
Byron Stingily,
Rod Modell,
X-101,
Ten City,
The Divine Comedy,
Arcadia,
Interpol,
Dave Gahan,
Albert Ayler,
Y Pants,
The Black Dice,
Clear Light,
Marmalade,
The Remains,
Kas Product,
Harmonia,
The Human League,
Rotary Connection,
Minny Pops,
Bob Dylan,
Theoretical Girls,
Terry Callier,
Yusef Lateef,
Howard Jones,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Vainqueur,
The Cramps,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camouflage,
Amazonics,
Roy Ayers,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
June Days,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.