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 Iceland and from London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Glenn Branca to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Cluster,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lindisfarne,
The Trojans,
Jacques Brel,
Dead Boys,
Parry Music,
The Neon Judgement,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pantytec,
Supertramp,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Accadde A,
Au Pairs,
Malaria!,
The Litter,
Audionom,
the Soft Cell,
Terry Callier,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Animal Collective,
Whodini,
John Holt,
Todd Rundgren,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Mojo Men,
OOIOO,
Average White Band,
X-Ray Spex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Flag,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lyres,
LL Cool J,
The Fall,
T. Rex,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ultravox,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brothers Johnson,
New York Dolls,
Susan Cadogan,
Charles Mingus,
The Moody Blues,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Spoonie Gee,
Michelle Simonal,
Maleditus Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Model 500,
Joe Smooth,
Radio Birdman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nirvana,
The Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.