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 Nigeria and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 James White and The Blacks to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Arthur Verocai,
Eddi Front,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tres Demented,
The Evens,
Suicide,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quantec,
The Sonics,
Chris & Cosey,
Wally Richardson,
Zero Boys,
Warsaw,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jandek,
The Divine Comedy,
John Coltrane,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Shuggie Otis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grey Daturas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Black Moon,
LL Cool J,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Human League,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash,
L. Decosne,
Supertramp,
Siglo XX,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Severed Heads,
The Index,
Carl Craig,
Amon Düül II,
the Soft Cell,
Pole,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Green,
Q and Not U,
Adolescents,
K-Klass,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Khruangbin,
Amon Düül,
CMW,
Junior Murvin,
The Toasters,
Don Cherry,
The Walker Brothers,
Lightning Bolt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
James White and The Blacks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Boredoms,
Ludus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Massinfluence,
The Barracudas,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.