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 Czech Republic and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron 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 Albert Ayler to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Pretty Things,
Howard Jones,
John Holt,
Eric Dolphy,
Talk Talk,
Silicon Teens,
The Kinks,
Sun City Girls,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
These Immortal Souls,
Sandy B,
Cabaret Voltaire,
FM Einheit,
Maleditus Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
The New Christs,
Flipper,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tim Buckley,
48th St. Collective,
Tres Demented,
The Raincoats,
Yellowson,
Gang Green,
Max Romeo,
Albert Ayler,
Arthur Verocai,
Shuggie Otis,
Fugazi,
Wasted Youth,
Ronan,
Faraquet,
Dead Boys,
Nick Fraelich,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Can,
Con Funk Shun,
Susan Cadogan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sonic Youth,
Malaria!,
David Bowie,
The Fall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharoah Sanders,
DJ Style,
Bronski Beat,
Schoolly D,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Barracudas,
Cymande,
Gil Scott Heron,
Blossom Toes,
Brand Nubian,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Icehouse,
Pole,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.