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 Kuwait and from Cairo.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Buzzcocks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Hoover,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fortunes,
Spandau Ballet,
Brand Nubian,
Popol Vuh,
Unwound,
The Zeros,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Idris Muhammad,
Agent Orange,
Monks,
Yellowson,
LL Cool J,
The Buckinghams,
Skaos,
Wolf Eyes,
Cheater Slicks,
Cameo,
The Wake,
Jacob Miller,
Youth Brigade,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boredoms,
Robert Hood,
Country Teasers,
Tim Buckley,
Soft Cell,
June of 44,
Minnie Riperton,
Kaleidoscope,
MDC,
Deadbeat,
Electric Prunes,
Severed Heads,
Ossler,
Index,
Monolake,
The Gap Band,
World's Most,
Ice-T,
Sun Ra,
Marshall Jefferson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Freddie Wadling,
Schoolly D,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Swans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Warren Ellis,
H. Thieme,
Intrusion,
FM Einheit,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Walker Brothers,
Eurythmics,
the Sonics,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aaron Thompson,
Soulsonic Force,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.