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 Oman and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crispy Ambulance to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Fluxion,
X-Ray Spex,
Sixth Finger,
The Black Dice,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Pretty Things,
Tom Boy,
Peter and Kerry,
Gang of Four,
Panda Bear,
The Smiths,
Fugazi,
Gong,
Accadde A,
the Germs,
Newcleus,
Procol Harum,
Brand Nubian,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Sheep,
Monolake,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed,
PIL,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Electric Prunes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
Lightning Bolt,
Bobby Byrd,
Ohio Players,
The Trojans,
Dark Day,
Motorama,
Ornette Coleman,
Nick Fraelich,
ABC,
Laurel Aitken,
The Divine Comedy,
Eurythmics,
Black Moon,
Albert Ayler,
Vainqueur,
The Monochrome Set,
Glenn Branca,
The Seeds,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Sonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Brass Construction,
Animal Collective,
One Last Wish,
X-101,
The J.B.'s,
Curtis Mayfield,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.