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 Canada and from Bremen.
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 Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin 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 Absolute Body Control to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario 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?
Pantaleimon,
The Move,
Black Sheep,
Ultravox,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crime,
John Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
June of 44,
Cheater Slicks,
Nick Fraelich,
X-Ray Spex,
Audionom,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kenny Larkin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Toni Rubio,
Brass Construction,
Easy Going,
The Wake,
John Lydon,
Mars,
Ohio Players,
Joe Finger,
Kevin Saunderson,
Johnny Clarke,
The Knickerbockers,
Soulsonic Force,
Sound Behaviour,
Dawn Penn,
Make Up,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Sherman,
Alison Limerick,
Warren Ellis,
KRS-One,
Ronan,
Angry Samoans,
Tim Buckley,
The Mojo Men,
Swell Maps,
Banda Bassotti,
Mo-Dettes,
Agent Orange,
Juan Atkins,
D'Angelo,
Pagans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultra Naté,
Visage,
Cameo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tears for Fears,
The Names,
Theoretical Girls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Moon,
Danielle Patucci,
Man Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.