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 Tajikistan and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Darondo 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Public Image Ltd.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
MDC,
Lakeside,
F. McDonald,
Mission of Burma,
Vladislav Delay,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Howard Jones,
The Grass Roots,
Colin Newman,
Drexciya,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
Marine Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Last Poets,
The Divine Comedy,
Bill Wells,
The Leaves,
The Misunderstood,
Alice Coltrane,
the Germs,
Swans,
The Gun Club,
Boz Scaggs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Los Fastidios,
John Foxx,
Boredoms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Skaos,
E-Dancer,
Siglo XX,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry's Kids,
Subhumans,
Marmalade,
10cc,
Derrick May,
Laurel Aitken,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gang Green,
Echospace,
The Doors,
Interpol,
New York Dolls,
the Slits,
The Moleskins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Model 500,
The Skatalites,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.