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 Bhutan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Eddi Front to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Jeff Lynne,
Reuben Wilson,
Los Fastidios,
Eurythmics,
Make Up,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Womack,
Stiv Bators,
Roxette,
Matthew Halsall,
Harry Pussy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Isaac Hayes,
The Last Poets,
Bobby Byrd,
Rufus Thomas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mandrill,
Audionom,
The Busters,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra,
Graham Central Station,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pole,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Marine Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nirvana,
Erasure,
Brothers Johnson,
Masters at Work,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Thompson Twins,
Tommy Roe,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
Parry Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Clarke,
The Buckinghams,
Judy Mowatt,
Gang of Four,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hasil Adkins,
Urselle,
The Electric Prunes,
KRS-One,
The Selecter,
Mission of Burma,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.