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 Peru and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Terry Callier to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Mr. Review,
Neil Young,
Gang of Four,
10cc,
Skriet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Reagan Youth,
The Busters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Human League,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Franke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Danielle Patucci,
Anthony Braxton,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boredoms,
Make Up,
Soft Cell,
Chris & Cosey,
Mo-Dettes,
Freddie Wadling,
The Slits,
The Golliwogs,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fall,
Porter Ricks,
Hashim,
Pere Ubu,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Television Personalities,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
The Victims,
ABBA,
the Slits,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pierre Henry,
The Doors,
Black Sheep,
Agitation Free,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
Pole,
Hasil Adkins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Velvet Underground,
David Bowie,
Au Pairs,
The Cramps,
Lungfish,
Model 500,
Zapp,
Faust,
Hot Snakes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang On A Can,
Khruangbin,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.