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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Motions,
One Last Wish,
Groovy Waters,
Robert Wyatt,
Marmalade,
UT,
Funky Four + One,
The Slits,
Delon & Dalcan,
These Immortal Souls,
The American Breed,
Crispy Ambulance,
Inner City,
Subhumans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eric Copeland,
Ossler,
Zapp,
Rites of Spring,
Infiniti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sandy B,
Essential Logic,
Electric Prunes,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Von Mondo,
Television,
Tres Demented,
Bizarre Inc.,
Country Teasers,
the Swans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Steve Hackett,
Nas,
Maleditus Sound,
Stetsasonic,
Blossom Toes,
Laurel Aitken,
X-Ray Spex,
Jacob Miller,
Clear Light,
Dennis Brown,
Jawbox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Porter Ricks,
Ronnie Foster,
kango's stein massive,
The Mummies,
Aswad,
Susan Cadogan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Animal Collective,
Slick Rick,
Bang On A Can,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Pus,
Can,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Iggy Pop,
Mission of Burma,
The Dead C,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.