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 Rwanda and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Blake Baxter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Music Machine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kenny Larkin,
Scratch Acid,
The Durutti Column,
Con Funk Shun,
Robert Wyatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barbara Tucker,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
Parry Music,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiohead,
Judy Mowatt,
The Pop Group,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Moss Icon,
Lucky Dragons,
The Buckinghams,
Nation of Ulysses,
Siglo XX,
These Immortal Souls,
Mission of Burma,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Moon,
Scott Walker,
D'Angelo,
Warsaw,
Depeche Mode,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Bananas,
FM Einheit,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
Funkadelic,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cure,
Chrome,
Easy Going,
The Motions,
Nils Olav,
Archie Shepp,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Evens,
Danielle Patucci,
Ronnie Foster,
L. Decosne,
X-Ray Spex,
The Vogues,
The Neon Judgement,
Wally Richardson,
Rapeman,
Aaron Thompson,
The American Breed,
The Divine Comedy,
DNA,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.