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 Afghanistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fire Engines to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Moby Grape,
Aural Exciters,
Popol Vuh,
Wasted Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Letta Mbulu,
DNA,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blake Baxter,
The Buckinghams,
Sandy B,
Masters at Work,
Chris & Cosey,
Freddie Wadling,
the Bar-Kays,
Crispy Ambulance,
Stetsasonic,
Bill Wells,
Zero Boys,
Charles Mingus,
Icehouse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Martian,
KRS-One,
Sex Pistols,
Swans,
Bauhaus,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gap Band,
The Saints,
Hot Snakes,
Prince Buster,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Animal Collective,
Juan Atkins,
Theoretical Girls,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Yazoo,
Nick Fraelich,
Flash Fearless,
Stiv Bators,
Nils Olav,
Blossom Toes,
Lalann,
Chrome,
X-102,
Colin Newman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Warsaw,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The J.B.'s,
E-Dancer,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.