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 Equatorial Guinea 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
JFA,
Sällskapet,
DJ Style,
The Smoke,
The Monks,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
Procol Harum,
kango's stein massive,
Throbbing Gristle,
Popol Vuh,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
Shoche,
Gang Starr,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Unrelated Segments,
The Last Poets,
Newcleus,
Television,
Howard Jones,
Stereo Dub,
Loose Ends,
Livin' Joy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cybotron,
Siglo XX,
Duran Duran,
Sun Ra,
Sight & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Anthony Braxton,
Jawbox,
X-Ray Spex,
Marvin Gaye,
Soulsonic Force,
Bootsy Collins,
Dennis Brown,
The Moody Blues,
Malaria!,
The Cowsills,
Letta Mbulu,
Hardrive,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Khruangbin,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Amon Düül,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tim Buckley,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lindisfarne,
The Velvet Underground,
Connie Case,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Ludus,
The Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L..
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.