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 Egypt and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scan 7 to the grunge 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Newcleus,
Scott Walker,
Mars,
Cybotron,
The Seeds,
Gichy Dan,
Suicide,
Popol Vuh,
T.S.O.L.,
Al Stewart,
Talk Talk,
Mo-Dettes,
Technova,
Fugazi,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
Jerry's Kids,
Jawbox,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ice-T,
Gang of Four,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Basic Channel,
Underground Resistance,
Don Cherry,
Pole,
The Fire Engines,
the Germs,
The Leaves,
Pantaleimon,
Fad Gadget,
Radiohead,
Masters at Work,
The Star Department,
Albert Ayler,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
The Techniques,
Y Pants,
Kas Product,
Dead Boys,
Flash Fearless,
Girls At Our Best!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blancmange,
Althea and Donna,
Sight & Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
The Angels of Light,
Slick Rick,
Minor Threat,
The Pop Group,
David Bowie,
The Busters,
The Smiths,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
June of 44,
Gerry Rafferty,
Silicon Teens,
Cymande,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.