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 Malta and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar 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 Lee Hazlewood 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Grass Roots,
Stiv Bators,
The Victims,
Rekid,
Quantec,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skriet,
Ossler,
Interpol,
Sex Pistols,
Skarface,
The Index,
Boogie Down Productions,
Anthony Braxton,
Make Up,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Quadrant,
Ponytail,
Slick Rick,
Moby Grape,
The Martian,
Arthur Verocai,
Babytalk,
Simply Red,
Audionom,
Buzzcocks,
Flipper,
Franke,
The Selecter,
KRS-One,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ronnie Foster,
Zapp,
Inner City,
Talk Talk,
Absolute Body Control,
Eric Copeland,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Sheep,
China Crisis,
Scientists,
Ten City,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Evens,
Black Bananas,
Warsaw,
Funkadelic,
Gil Scott Heron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
A Certain Ratio,
Zero Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Delta 5,
Little Man,
The Real Kids,
Amazonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Vogues,
Mission of Burma,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.