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 Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
The Standells,
Black Pus,
The Golliwogs,
Tres Demented,
Sex Pistols,
Scott Walker,
Magma,
Robert Wyatt,
Gabor Szabo,
Nas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Hood,
The Red Krayola,
Bill Near,
Section 25,
Youth Brigade,
Depeche Mode,
Theoretical Girls,
D'Angelo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
Bluetip,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Connie Case,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Martian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Public Enemy,
Sound Behaviour,
Cecil Taylor,
Andrew Hill,
The Cowsills,
Pantytec,
Brick,
World's Most,
Flamin' Groovies,
Icehouse,
Little Man,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Slits,
Mars,
The Zeros,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marc Almond,
Simply Red,
Eli Mardock,
Siglo XX,
Neu!,
Marmalade,
Yazoo,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Outsiders,
Mr. Review,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.