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 Honduras and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
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 harpsichord 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 Pylon to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brass Construction,
Angry Samoans,
Johnny Clarke,
Bob Dylan,
Urselle,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Silicon Teens,
Model 500,
Nirvana,
Mr. Review,
Grey Daturas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Swell Maps,
Robert Wyatt,
Tom Boy,
Technova,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Supertramp,
Bootsy Collins,
Minor Threat,
Glenn Branca,
The Motions,
Pussy Galore,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ituana,
Flash Fearless,
LL Cool J,
Dead Boys,
Nik Kershaw,
Bang On A Can,
Japan,
The Red Krayola,
Eddi Front,
These Immortal Souls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rites of Spring,
The Cure,
The Fire Engines,
Pole,
Slick Rick,
Pantaleimon,
Wings,
Intrusion,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mars,
The Gap Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Hashim,
Deadbeat,
The Standells,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Starr,
Mad Mike,
The Techniques,
The Skatalites,
Cluster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Charles Mingus,
Colin Newman,
The Mummies,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.