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 Papua New Guinea and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Blake Baxter,
Stetsasonic,
The Motions,
The Cowsills,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soft Cell,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
David McCallum,
Country Joe & The Fish,
D'Angelo,
The Misunderstood,
The Names,
Amazonics,
Rites of Spring,
Magazine,
The Fugs,
Rufus Thomas,
James White and The Blacks,
Radio Birdman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash,
L. Decosne,
Skarface,
Y Pants,
Q and Not U,
The Stooges,
Letta Mbulu,
Franke,
Ludus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sixth Finger,
Heaven 17,
Symarip,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
B.T. Express,
Tim Buckley,
Duran Duran,
Stockholm Monsters,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Prunes,
Joe Smooth,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Inner City,
Lucky Dragons,
Adolescents,
Neu!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Techniques,
Shuggie Otis,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harry Pussy,
Anakelly,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.