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 Tunisia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gang Starr to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 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 '70s 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 Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brick,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ossler,
Newcleus,
This Heat,
John Cale,
Pussy Galore,
the Slits,
R.M.O.,
Tres Demented,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
World's Most,
Main Source,
Basic Channel,
Oblivians,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Procol Harum,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Siglo XX,
Pulsallama,
John Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
The Sonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cymande,
Rosa Yemen,
Depeche Mode,
John Lydon,
The Kinks,
Pere Ubu,
Sugar Minott,
David Axelrod,
Mo-Dettes,
David Bowie,
Tim Buckley,
Lakeside,
Unrelated Segments,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Womack,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Five Americans,
Franke,
Hot Snakes,
Negative Approach,
Bang On A Can,
Flamin' Groovies,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang of Four,
Piero Umiliani,
Make Up,
Sarah Menescal,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Techniques,
Jeff Mills,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.