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 Congo and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 the Germs to the grunge 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bluetip,
Kerri Chandler,
Radiohead,
Jacques Brel,
The Human League,
The Smiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Morten Harket,
Stereo Dub,
Spandau Ballet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
Agent Orange,
Minor Threat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Wake,
Wally Richardson,
Lower 48,
Pole,
Average White Band,
Joey Negro,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lakeside,
The Velvet Underground,
Mad Mike,
Sixth Finger,
Hardrive,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Smoke,
The Saints,
Blancmange,
Joe Smooth,
Nils Olav,
The Doobie Brothers,
Underground Resistance,
Y Pants,
Minnie Riperton,
Tres Demented,
The Real Kids,
Severed Heads,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Hoover,
Hasil Adkins,
Alice Coltrane,
China Crisis,
Outsiders,
Fugazi,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Normal,
The Fuzztones,
Malaria!,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.