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 Indonesia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Barclay James Harvest to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Siglo XX,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bobby Sherman,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fire Engines,
The Divine Comedy,
Hasil Adkins,
T. Rex,
Leonard Cohen,
Black Flag,
Prince Buster,
Q65,
Terry Callier,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Idris Muhammad,
Althea and Donna,
The Leaves,
48th St. Collective,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Womack,
Interpol,
UT,
Amon Düül,
Aural Exciters,
a-ha,
Intrusion,
The Shadows of Knight,
David McCallum,
Al Stewart,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Robert Görl,
Gang of Four,
Skarface,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Raincoats,
Lebanon Hanover,
Hoover,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magma,
Groovy Waters,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Neu!,
Lungfish,
The Residents,
EPMD,
Eurythmics,
Deakin,
New York Dolls,
Chris Corsano,
Andrew Hill,
Chris & Cosey,
The Stooges,
Byron Stingily,
Agent Orange,
The Remains,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.