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 the UAE and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the dance 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Joey Negro,
Lalo Schifrin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Index,
Terry Callier,
Fatback Band,
Wolf Eyes,
The Vogues,
The Seeds,
Mars,
Glenn Branca,
Erasure,
Jeff Mills,
Jawbox,
Deakin,
Newcleus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pussy Galore,
Patti Smith,
Anthony Braxton,
Soft Machine,
the Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slackers,
Eddi Front,
Erykah Badu,
Lindisfarne,
Minny Pops,
The Cowsills,
H. Thieme,
Magazine,
Reuben Wilson,
Porter Ricks,
The Gap Band,
Crooked Eye,
Aaron Thompson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Inner City,
Joyce Sims,
Don Cherry,
The Litter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Clear Light,
Scan 7,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shuggie Otis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacob Miller,
Archie Shepp,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Move,
Moebius,
Hot Snakes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aural Exciters,
Reagan Youth,
Mad Mike,
The Selecter,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.