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 Montenegro and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
June of 44,
Bronski Beat,
Lucky Dragons,
Bang On A Can,
Technova,
Youth Brigade,
Scientists,
Ituana,
James White and The Blacks,
The Searchers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Young Marble Giants,
Leonard Cohen,
Mad Mike,
Lindisfarne,
Susan Cadogan,
Kerri Chandler,
Cecil Taylor,
Infiniti,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Sheep,
Harry Pussy,
Make Up,
La Düsseldorf,
T.S.O.L.,
Joensuu 1685,
Symarip,
Essential Logic,
K-Klass,
Thee Headcoats,
Main Source,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jeff Lynne,
Josef K,
Soul II Soul,
The Gladiators,
LL Cool J,
R.M.O.,
Lungfish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blancmange,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Zero Boys,
Pagans,
Barbara Tucker,
Heaven 17,
The Martian,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultravox,
Pantaleimon,
Parry Music,
The Cure,
Junior Murvin,
Can,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Adolescents,
The United States of America,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grauzone,
Albert Ayler,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.