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 Ukraine and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 Black Pus to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Soft Cell,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Funkadelic,
Skarface,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tres Demented,
ABC,
Sonic Youth,
Hasil Adkins,
Faraquet,
Monolake,
Bauhaus,
Carl Craig,
Bill Near,
Suicide,
Panda Bear,
Donald Byrd,
H. Thieme,
Little Man,
Robert Görl,
Mad Mike,
John Lydon,
Skriet,
Cal Tjader,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James White and The Blacks,
The Saints,
Peter & Gordon,
Morten Harket,
Ice-T,
Brass Construction,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aswad,
Blossom Toes,
Delta 5,
David McCallum,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang of Four,
A Certain Ratio,
Arab on Radar,
The Modern Lovers,
The Count Five,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sun Ra,
Echospace,
Michelle Simonal,
Yazoo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fela Kuti,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
CMW,
Cameo,
Kayak,
David Bowie,
The Doors,
Livin' Joy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.