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 Macedonia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin 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 Funkadelic to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Faust,
Silicon Teens,
Symarip,
K-Klass,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sight & Sound,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Clarke,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Peter and Kerry,
Ken Boothe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
Jesper Dahlback,
Excepter,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Albert Ayler,
ABBA,
Black Pus,
The Blues Magoos,
Lightning Bolt,
The Motions,
The Electric Prunes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marine Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Graham Central Station,
The Seeds,
Qualms,
Pussy Galore,
Kenny Larkin,
The Skatalites,
Massinfluence,
Sarah Menescal,
Supertramp,
Neu!,
Johnny Osbourne,
D'Angelo,
The Happenings,
Deepchord,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Shuggie Otis,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül,
Eric Copeland,
Terrestrial Tones,
Howard Jones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bootsy Collins,
Vainqueur,
Laurel Aitken,
Yellowson,
Yusef Lateef,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.