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 Switzerland and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Amazonics to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Porter Ricks,
Vladislav Delay,
The Mojo Men,
Blossom Toes,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barclay James Harvest,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Standells,
Sight & Sound,
In Retrospect,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fire Engines,
Amazonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Silicon Teens,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gories,
Ronan,
Trumans Water,
Shuggie Otis,
Flipper,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deepchord,
Derrick May,
Soft Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dark Day,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eden Ahbez,
The Skatalites,
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gun Club,
The Gladiators,
Maurizio,
Loose Ends,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Junior Murvin,
Derrick Morgan,
Supertramp,
Suicide,
Deadbeat,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare,
Alison Limerick,
The Dirtbombs,
The J.B.'s,
the Bar-Kays,
Guru Guru,
Sixth Finger,
Grey Daturas,
Ornette Coleman,
The Moleskins,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
kango's stein massive,
Hot Snakes,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.