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 India and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum 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 Arthur Verocai to the electroclash 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Litter,
Anakelly,
Scion,
The Blues Magoos,
Juan Atkins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dark Day,
Popol Vuh,
Bootsy Collins,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cowsills,
The Pretty Things,
Moby Grape,
Stetsasonic,
The Toasters,
Liliput,
Magazine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Franke,
Carl Craig,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Maleditus Sound,
The Motions,
Icehouse,
AZ,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Sherman,
Wasted Youth,
Negative Approach,
Janne Schatter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Junior Murvin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wings,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minnie Riperton,
Easy Going,
a-ha,
Adolescents,
Aaron Thompson,
Bob Dylan,
Soul II Soul,
Amazonics,
Ten City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Main Source,
Kerrie Biddell,
Maurizio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gladiators,
Jeff Mills,
Joy Division,
Outsiders,
Alton Ellis,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
David McCallum,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.