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 Netherlands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 Groovy Waters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Gang Green,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jerry's Kids,
T. Rex,
Terry Callier,
Oneida,
Gabor Szabo,
Yaz,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Halsall,
Von Mondo,
Index,
Connie Case,
Procol Harum,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ronan,
Desert Stars,
Erykah Badu,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Teasers,
The Monks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tim Buckley,
Pussy Galore,
Stereo Dub,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Byrd,
Gong,
CMW,
B.T. Express,
Peter and Kerry,
The Martian,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
Dark Day,
Steve Hackett,
Buzzcocks,
The Motions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Victims,
Pantaleimon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camberwell Now,
Lou Christie,
Boredoms,
Malaria!,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Zapp,
The Zeros,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Slits,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Kenny Larkin,
Radio Birdman,
The Angels of Light,
The Golliwogs,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.