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 Zimbabwe and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 Dirtbombs to the dance 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Tom Boy,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Normal,
Dark Day,
PIL,
Charles Mingus,
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pantytec,
Monks,
Deadbeat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
Can,
Carl Craig,
The Wake,
Bluetip,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ohio Players,
Sound Behaviour,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Minny Pops,
Tim Buckley,
Bob Dylan,
Mandrill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wings,
Max Romeo,
Arthur Verocai,
Shuggie Otis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rites of Spring,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minor Threat,
Lee Hazlewood,
Peter and Kerry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Schoolly D,
The Knickerbockers,
Robert Görl,
Yazoo,
The Gap Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Con Funk Shun,
Cybotron,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eddi Front,
Sun Ra,
Iggy Pop,
Moby Grape,
Delta 5,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Porter Ricks,
New Age Steppers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ossler,
Groovy Waters,
Rod Modell,
Alice Coltrane,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.