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 Burkina and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eric Copeland to the dance 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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints 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?
The Saints,
Angry Samoans,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
Swell Maps,
Dawn Penn,
Darondo,
Qualms,
Minor Threat,
The Monochrome Set,
Donald Byrd,
Monolake,
Henry Cow,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nation of Ulysses,
Althea and Donna,
Minutemen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Skaos,
Popol Vuh,
Blancmange,
The Zeros,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
Lakeside,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Searchers,
Neil Young,
Pylon,
The United States of America,
U.S. Maple,
The Young Rascals,
Suicide,
The Seeds,
Joy Division,
10cc,
Bobby Byrd,
Quadrant,
The Fortunes,
Interpol,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Knickerbockers,
Barbara Tucker,
The Kinks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terry Callier,
Lou Reed,
In Retrospect,
Barrington Levy,
the Sonics,
Rekid,
B.T. Express,
Derrick Morgan,
The Detroit Cobras,
The American Breed,
The Tremeloes,
The Offenders,
Bauhaus,
Absolute Body Control,
Mars,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.