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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Big Daddy Kane to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Joyce Sims,
Mars,
Brass Construction,
Magazine,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tubeway Army,
The Doobie Brothers,
Al Stewart,
Gang Green,
Half Japanese,
Ossler,
Rekid,
Saccharine Trust,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultravox,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dead Boys,
Junior Murvin,
Talk Talk,
Sexual Harrassment,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
AZ,
New Order,
Camouflage,
R.M.O.,
Procol Harum,
Arab on Radar,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Essential Logic,
Faraquet,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mojo Men,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
Stiv Bators,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
The United States of America,
Cecil Taylor,
Darondo,
LL Cool J,
Crispy Ambulance,
cv313,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Slits,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
David Bowie,
Scan 7,
Scott Walker,
The Stooges,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Maleditus Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Technova,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.