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 Slovakia and from London.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fad Gadget to the grunge 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
These Immortal Souls,
Lalann,
John Coltrane,
Electric Prunes,
Ultravox,
Scratch Acid,
Rapeman,
Liliput,
The Five Americans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yazoo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Litter,
Groovy Waters,
Bluetip,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
Rotary Connection,
Pylon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Alton Ellis,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Hood,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brand Nubian,
Smog,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eddi Front,
Echospace,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Byrd,
Fugazi,
Barry Ungar,
Colin Newman,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Pus,
Henry Cow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aaron Thompson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Amon Düül II,
Saccharine Trust,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Offenders,
Dark Day,
L. Decosne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Mars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Andrew Hill,
The Barracudas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stiv Bators,
Hardrive,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.