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 Cameroon and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Mr. Review to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moebius,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Matthew Halsall,
The Kinks,
The Slits,
Connie Case,
Index,
Japan,
Bob Dylan,
R.M.O.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yazoo,
Goldenarms,
Prince Buster,
Harmonia,
The Modern Lovers,
Mad Mike,
Amon Düül II,
Girls At Our Best!,
Talk Talk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
The Searchers,
Crime,
Simply Red,
Deadbeat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Crooked Eye,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jawbox,
China Crisis,
Byron Stingily,
X-Ray Spex,
Fatback Band,
Quadrant,
Nation of Ulysses,
Television,
Camouflage,
Bronski Beat,
The Fall,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Liliput,
Terry Callier,
The Litter,
Robert Görl,
Television Personalities,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pantaleimon,
Banda Bassotti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Minor Threat,
The Slackers,
Jeff Mills,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Section 25,
Motorama,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.