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 Guinea-Bissau and from Woodstock.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Masters at Work 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Lalo Schifrin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Moss Icon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rapeman,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gladiators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ituana,
Bill Near,
ABBA,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Germs,
Dawn Penn,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Letta Mbulu,
Radio Birdman,
Nico,
Gastr Del Sol,
T.S.O.L.,
Glenn Branca,
Judy Mowatt,
Can,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Finger,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Wells,
Adolescents,
The Seeds,
Nick Fraelich,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Circle Jerks,
Soulsonic Force,
Fat Boys,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sandy B,
Pulsallama,
Josef K,
In Retrospect,
The Saints,
The Techniques,
Minor Threat,
Sällskapet,
KRS-One,
Ohio Players,
Nirvana,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Howard Jones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Quadrant,
Spoonie Gee,
Minnie Riperton,
The Electric Prunes,
Flipper,
Sam Rivers,
Television Personalities,
June of 44,
The Motions,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.