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 Korea South and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Al Stewart to the techno 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mars,
Mark Hollis,
Eli Mardock,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tommy Roe,
Faraquet,
World's Most,
Deepchord,
the Association,
John Lydon,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound,
New Age Steppers,
Metal Thangz,
This Heat,
Trumans Water,
The Raincoats,
Rites of Spring,
Archie Shepp,
These Immortal Souls,
Severed Heads,
Danielle Patucci,
The Music Machine,
The Birthday Party,
The Sound,
The Martian,
Yazoo,
The Selecter,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Soft Cell,
Blancmange,
Yellowson,
Electric Prunes,
Index,
Kevin Saunderson,
ABBA,
The Dirtbombs,
MC5,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
In Retrospect,
Roger Hodgson,
The Kinks,
Lower 48,
Andrew Hill,
Black Sheep,
Skaos,
Grey Daturas,
Echospace,
Cheater Slicks,
Panda Bear,
The Seeds,
X-102,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.