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 Mauritania and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Names to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Tim Buckley,
Sonny Sharrock,
Con Funk Shun,
Lungfish,
The Offenders,
Mark Hollis,
New York Dolls,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Bar-Kays,
Babytalk,
Saccharine Trust,
ABBA,
Ken Boothe,
Underground Resistance,
Adolescents,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yellowson,
Roy Ayers,
Kayak,
Tres Demented,
Black Flag,
Severed Heads,
T.S.O.L.,
The Smiths,
Blake Baxter,
Fatback Band,
Fad Gadget,
Danielle Patucci,
Desert Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Little Man,
Susan Cadogan,
Infiniti,
Organ,
Barbara Tucker,
Amazonics,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cowsills,
Liliput,
Nils Olav,
Q and Not U,
T. Rex,
Connie Case,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Dolphy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Porter Ricks,
Joey Negro,
Davy DMX,
Kool Moe Dee,
Procol Harum,
Oneida,
Terry Callier,
The Move,
the Soft Cell,
Gabor Szabo,
OOIOO,
Sam Rivers,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.