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 Portugal and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Alice Coltrane to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ohio Players,
The Birthday Party,
Main Source,
Cybotron,
The Fire Engines,
John Holt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Niagra,
Slick Rick,
Agitation Free,
Scientists,
The Sound,
Adolescents,
Au Pairs,
Panda Bear,
Dennis Brown,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cure,
Spandau Ballet,
Bluetip,
Graham Central Station,
Tropical Tobacco,
Davy DMX,
Laurel Aitken,
Godley & Creme,
Boredoms,
a-ha,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
The Divine Comedy,
The Electric Prunes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ituana,
Nirvana,
Flash Fearless,
Bill Wells,
Isaac Hayes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
Fluxion,
The Monochrome Set,
Lucky Dragons,
Banda Bassotti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
JFA,
Johnny Clarke,
The Selecter,
Blake Baxter,
Susan Cadogan,
Howard Jones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Evens,
The Saints,
Index,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.