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 New Zealand and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Toasters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Skriet,
Sparks,
Lou Reed,
Groovy Waters,
Nirvana,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun City Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Zeros,
Janne Schatter,
Scott Walker,
Technova,
The Five Americans,
Brothers Johnson,
Malaria!,
Radio Birdman,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantaleimon,
Youth Brigade,
The Gladiators,
Kaleidoscope,
Sandy B,
Surgeon,
Stereo Dub,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bush Tetras,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Con Funk Shun,
Nils Olav,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marine Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Pop Group,
Faust,
The Saints,
Wally Richardson,
Skarface,
The Pretty Things,
Stetsasonic,
The Modern Lovers,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Procol Harum,
Roger Hodgson,
Sugar Minott,
Donny Hathaway,
Tomorrow,
Joensuu 1685,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Goldenarms,
Siglo XX,
John Holt,
Idris Muhammad,
Rapeman,
UT,
Moby Grape,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.