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 Tunisia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the techno 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeff Lynne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Skriet,
Harry Pussy,
Organ,
Marmalade,
Swans,
Motorama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bad Manners,
Eli Mardock,
The Cure,
Electric Prunes,
The Last Poets,
Moss Icon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Names,
The Modern Lovers,
Technova,
Deadbeat,
Minor Threat,
Royal Trux,
Youth Brigade,
Janne Schatter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Neu!,
Mission of Burma,
Brothers Johnson,
LL Cool J,
the Swans,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cal Tjader,
John Holt,
Bobby Womack,
The Wake,
Suicide,
Monks,
Shoche,
Rosa Yemen,
Sam Rivers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Judy Mowatt,
Tomorrow,
Amon Düül II,
Gichy Dan,
Blossom Toes,
Wire,
Yazoo,
Schoolly D,
Nas,
R.M.O.,
Pussy Galore,
The Pretty Things,
Deakin,
Loose Ends,
The Raincoats,
Grey Daturas,
Blake Baxter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.