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 Delhi.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the theremin 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 Kool Moe Dee to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Soft Machine,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hot Snakes,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
Brothers Johnson,
Michelle Simonal,
Ossler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bauhaus,
Pere Ubu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Victims,
The Skatalites,
Black Moon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kool Moe Dee,
Boredoms,
Black Sheep,
Nation of Ulysses,
F. McDonald,
Bush Tetras,
Silicon Teens,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deadbeat,
the Sonics,
X-Ray Spex,
Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
The Beau Brummels,
Mo-Dettes,
Ituana,
Rapeman,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Slackers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Duran Duran,
Urselle,
Intrusion,
Rosa Yemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
The Cure,
The Leaves,
The Fugs,
John Coltrane,
Eddi Front,
The Trojans,
Reagan Youth,
Cal Tjader,
The Evens,
Public Enemy,
The Move,
Gabor Szabo,
The Dirtbombs,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.