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 Honduras and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pagans to the dance 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Selecter,
Angry Samoans,
Tom Boy,
The Saints,
Connie Case,
Bad Manners,
The Cramps,
Von Mondo,
Fatback Band,
JFA,
Steve Hackett,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ossler,
The Skatalites,
The Music Machine,
Girls At Our Best!,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Khruangbin,
Yazoo,
Nick Fraelich,
The Leaves,
The Young Rascals,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Tremeloes,
Talk Talk,
Oneida,
Ornette Coleman,
Faust,
X-102,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Popol Vuh,
Prince Buster,
Al Stewart,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rekid,
Jandek,
Rod Modell,
Alice Coltrane,
Malaria!,
Eric Dolphy,
Icehouse,
Mission of Burma,
Boredoms,
Bobby Womack,
The Busters,
Janne Schatter,
The Angels of Light,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Five Americans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Whodini,
Brass Construction,
Iggy Pop,
Interpol,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Circle Jerks,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.