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 Suriname and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Michael McDonald 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 B.T. Express to the electroclash 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
The Young Rascals,
8 Eyed Spy,
Agitation Free,
The Gun Club,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soulsonic Force,
The Star Department,
Flash Fearless,
Soft Cell,
Monks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eli Mardock,
Sixth Finger,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Robert Wyatt,
Fugazi,
Tom Boy,
Heaven 17,
John Cale,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Busters,
Skaos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flipper,
Byron Stingily,
Radiopuhelimet,
Roxette,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott Heron,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Quantec,
Jeff Mills,
Saccharine Trust,
LL Cool J,
Technova,
Average White Band,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
Tomorrow,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
The Stooges,
Marine Girls,
Main Source,
MDC,
Gabor Szabo,
The Associates,
Blancmange,
The Motions,
Lebanon Hanover,
R.M.O.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gichy Dan,
Bill Wells,
Matthew Bourne,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.