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 Japan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Remains to the electroclash 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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blossom Toes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
New Age Steppers,
the Slits,
Rufus Thomas,
Don Cherry,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Walker Brothers,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
Cal Tjader,
Television Personalities,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Amon Düül,
Rosa Yemen,
Shoche,
The Red Krayola,
Alphaville,
John Coltrane,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Rundgren,
Eden Ahbez,
Drexciya,
Negative Approach,
Lyres,
The Human League,
Magazine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cameo,
Nick Fraelich,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Cramps,
Goldenarms,
The Barracudas,
Dennis Brown,
The Busters,
Ronnie Foster,
Slave,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fall,
Max Romeo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Certain Ratio,
Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
Altered Images,
The Remains,
Peter and Kerry,
Fela Kuti,
Funkadelic,
Steve Hackett,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.