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 Belarus and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Los Fastidios to the rap 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Slick Rick,
Main Source,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Music Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Junior Murvin,
Schoolly D,
Bluetip,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mad Mike,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cramps,
Gabor Szabo,
the Slits,
Derrick May,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Sherman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nils Olav,
Charles Mingus,
Godley & Creme,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Organ,
Nik Kershaw,
Barrington Levy,
Nirvana,
Excepter,
Judy Mowatt,
Yazoo,
Ohio Players,
Absolute Body Control,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Theoretical Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Donald Byrd,
Gastr Del Sol,
Essential Logic,
Fad Gadget,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sandy B,
The Happenings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flamin' Groovies,
CMW,
Deepchord,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fluxion,
Spandau Ballet,
Soul II Soul,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fatback Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tom Boy,
The Monochrome Set,
Grauzone,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.