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 Brunei and from London.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The United States of America to the punk 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire 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?
Ponytail,
The Move,
Tres Demented,
The Leaves,
Barry Ungar,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Womack,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brass Construction,
Todd Terry,
The Sonics,
Oblivians,
L. Decosne,
Outsiders,
Fat Boys,
Smog,
Leonard Cohen,
Dennis Brown,
Eric Copeland,
Popol Vuh,
Magazine,
Althea and Donna,
The Walker Brothers,
Aloha Tigers,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Five Americans,
The Cramps,
Arcadia,
Theoretical Girls,
The Moody Blues,
Oneida,
Johnny Clarke,
Michelle Simonal,
Talk Talk,
Bill Near,
The Victims,
Harry Pussy,
Babytalk,
The Human League,
Eve St. Jones,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wasted Youth,
Archie Shepp,
Swans,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Avey Tare,
Piero Umiliani,
Roy Ayers,
Matthew Bourne,
Hot Snakes,
Intrusion,
Carl Craig,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry's Kids,
Ten City,
Radiohead,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Coltrane,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.