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 Gabon and from London.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
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 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 Danielle Patucci to the punk 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Albert Ayler,
Royal Trux,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sight & Sound,
Michelle Simonal,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Monolake,
Althea and Donna,
Prince Buster,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Almond,
Procol Harum,
Franke,
Connie Case,
The Litter,
Steve Hackett,
Lindisfarne,
Blossom Toes,
Pussy Galore,
The Modern Lovers,
Maleditus Sound,
Eric Copeland,
Pagans,
Little Man,
Funkadelic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Residents,
Bootsy Collins,
Motorama,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Josef K,
Arab on Radar,
The Sonics,
Judy Mowatt,
Eli Mardock,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ken Boothe,
Fear,
Pere Ubu,
Terry Callier,
This Heat,
Al Stewart,
Easy Going,
The Dead C,
The Gun Club,
The Star Department,
The Stooges,
the Normal,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magma,
U.S. Maple,
The Barracudas,
Reagan Youth,
Oblivians,
Hot Snakes,
Glambeats Corp.,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.