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 Guyana and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare 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 Kenny Larkin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Rufus Thomas,
The American Breed,
Minny Pops,
Robert Wyatt,
Quadrant,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Country Teasers,
Ronan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Saccharine Trust,
Idris Muhammad,
Vainqueur,
Easy Going,
Peter and Kerry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eric Dolphy,
The Pretty Things,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Starr,
Q and Not U,
Barrington Levy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sex Pistols,
Liliput,
Derrick Morgan,
Basic Channel,
Lakeside,
Mission of Burma,
Fat Boys,
The Remains,
Flipper,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gun Club,
KRS-One,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter & Gordon,
Spandau Ballet,
Magma,
The Smoke,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
Darondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Sherman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The New Christs,
Barry Ungar,
Stiv Bators,
Depeche Mode,
Ultravox,
Simply Red,
Al Stewart,
Pylon,
Janne Schatter,
Scion,
The Searchers,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Donny Hathaway,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.