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 Switzerland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Real Kids to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DNA,
Oneida,
Marvin Gaye,
Marmalade,
Darondo,
Bang On A Can,
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bootsy Collins,
Silicon Teens,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moby Grape,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Seeds,
DJ Style,
Television,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Agitation Free,
Shuggie Otis,
Ponytail,
OOIOO,
Barclay James Harvest,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sister Nancy,
a-ha,
The Moody Blues,
Scott Walker,
Inner City,
The Music Machine,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minutemen,
Hashim,
Fugazi,
The Dead C,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
This Heat,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dave Clark Five,
Unwound,
Joensuu 1685,
Jacques Brel,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Terry Callier,
Franke,
T. Rex,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers,
The Vogues,
The Stooges,
Public Enemy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Certain Ratio,
Pet Shop Boys,
LL Cool J,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.