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 Thailand and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Smoke to the funk 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Scientists,
Arab on Radar,
Eden Ahbez,
The Selecter,
the Normal,
Monks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dark Day,
Procol Harum,
Danielle Patucci,
Isaac Hayes,
Rekid,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Womack,
Zero Boys,
Parry Music,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cowsills,
Dead Boys,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Groovy Waters,
Au Pairs,
JFA,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Kinks,
The Moody Blues,
Arcadia,
Average White Band,
Tubeway Army,
Tears for Fears,
Barbara Tucker,
Camberwell Now,
Judy Mowatt,
Pantaleimon,
The Young Rascals,
Angry Samoans,
Eddi Front,
Ohio Players,
The Saints,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Swans,
Deadbeat,
Rapeman,
Scratch Acid,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
The Black Dice,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Josef K,
Sällskapet,
June of 44,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gabor Szabo,
Ten City,
Marc Almond,
Ludus,
Morten Harket,
Masters at Work,
Freddie Wadling,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.