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 Paraguay and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Deepchord to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
Average White Band,
Black Flag,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eden Ahbez,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
The Zeros,
Laurel Aitken,
T. Rex,
The Standells,
Brothers Johnson,
Warsaw,
Dark Day,
Slave,
One Last Wish,
Aswad,
Ice-T,
Chris Corsano,
The Star Department,
Letta Mbulu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dave Gahan,
DNA,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wire,
Arcadia,
Grey Daturas,
The Monks,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Coltrane,
The Pretty Things,
Saccharine Trust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mo-Dettes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Masters at Work,
Simply Red,
Interpol,
H. Thieme,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
June of 44,
JFA,
Scion,
Pantytec,
Ituana,
The Victims,
Jandek,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric Copeland,
Marc Almond,
Talk Talk,
The Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.