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 Colombia and from Hong Kong.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the jazz 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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Sandy B,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Siglo XX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doors,
The Remains,
Kerri Chandler,
The Techniques,
Q and Not U,
ABC,
Jeff Lynne,
Country Teasers,
L. Decosne,
The Sonics,
The Gun Club,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hasil Adkins,
Aloha Tigers,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Barracudas,
Adolescents,
Anthony Braxton,
Sällskapet,
Funkadelic,
Joy Division,
Monks,
Second Layer,
Amon Düül,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sixth Finger,
Lindisfarne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pierre Henry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Monochrome Set,
Fad Gadget,
The Human League,
China Crisis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rapeman,
The Cramps,
Khruangbin,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
Faust,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minny Pops,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Knickerbockers,
Skarface,
Ludus,
John Lydon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nas,
Qualms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yaz,
Frankie Knuckles,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.