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 Dominica and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Brass Construction to the dance 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Delta 5,
The Alarm Clocks,
Boz Scaggs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Warsaw,
Angry Samoans,
China Crisis,
Grandmaster Flash,
48th St. Collective,
Matthew Halsall,
Radio Birdman,
These Immortal Souls,
Skarface,
Prince Buster,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Sparks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camouflage,
Sex Pistols,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Axelrod,
R.M.O.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Slick Rick,
Swell Maps,
Bob Dylan,
The Busters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Altered Images,
The Dirtbombs,
Soft Machine,
The American Breed,
Schoolly D,
Y Pants,
Stetsasonic,
Loose Ends,
Black Flag,
Robert Hood,
Motorama,
Eli Mardock,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
L. Decosne,
The Modern Lovers,
The Smoke,
Television Personalities,
Tim Buckley,
The Vogues,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hot Snakes,
Mark Hollis,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Womack,
Lebanon Hanover,
Todd Rundgren,
Colin Newman,
The Happenings,
the Association,
Cymande,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.