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 Bahamas and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
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 Michael McDonald 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 Monochrome Set to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
OOIOO,
ABC,
The Gap Band,
Dennis Brown,
Niagra,
X-Ray Spex,
Monks,
The Techniques,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare,
Supertramp,
Gong,
Bronski Beat,
June of 44,
Janne Schatter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Cure,
Ken Boothe,
Barbara Tucker,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Man Parrish,
DNA,
Barrington Levy,
Idris Muhammad,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Dirtbombs,
Desert Stars,
The Sonics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Babytalk,
Lou Reed,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Absolute Body Control,
The Move,
Darondo,
The Stooges,
Anthony Braxton,
the Swans,
Arthur Verocai,
Japan,
Sparks,
The Fuzztones,
Michelle Simonal,
Godley & Creme,
K-Klass,
Hot Snakes,
Eurythmics,
Interpol,
Nik Kershaw,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Hashim,
Skaos,
Electric Light Orchestra,
These Immortal Souls,
Davy DMX,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Guru Guru,
Pylon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.