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 United Kingdom and from Delhi.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eve St. Jones to the rap 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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe 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 Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Q65,
Judy Mowatt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dead Boys,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
Television,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Excepter,
Tears for Fears,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Durutti Column,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arab on Radar,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
ABBA,
Sonic Youth,
The Dirtbombs,
LL Cool J,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Trumans Water,
Kenny Larkin,
UT,
Maleditus Sound,
Y Pants,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed,
Ice-T,
Crispian St. Peters,
Accadde A,
Angry Samoans,
Buzzcocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Johnny Clarke,
Bill Near,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Essential Logic,
Underground Resistance,
Banda Bassotti,
Soft Cell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Slits,
Hardrive,
Eli Mardock,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Byrd,
Vainqueur,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Zeros,
Lee Hazlewood,
MDC,
Dark Day,
Colin Newman,
K-Klass,
Sun City Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Howard Jones,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.