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 Uruguay and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Bobby Womack to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Jacob Miller,
Camberwell Now,
Clear Light,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Sonics,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Mummies,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
The Barracudas,
Suburban Knight,
Barbara Tucker,
The Black Dice,
Zapp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eddi Front,
the Sonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
Arcadia,
Bronski Beat,
Soft Cell,
Glenn Branca,
Dead Boys,
Guru Guru,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Red Krayola,
Siglo XX,
Crime,
Adolescents,
Young Marble Giants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scientists,
Kenny Larkin,
LL Cool J,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tubeway Army,
Faust,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Music Machine,
The Victims,
The Stooges,
Mr. Review,
Boz Scaggs,
Donald Byrd,
H. Thieme,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marvin Gaye,
Kayak,
Shoche,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Talk Talk,
Livin' Joy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nirvana,
The Last Poets,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.