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 Tunisia and from New York.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ultra Naté to the grunge 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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Malaria!,
The Busters,
Infiniti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Davy DMX,
Sam Rivers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Flipper,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New Order,
Barbara Tucker,
The Kinks,
Michelle Simonal,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Misunderstood,
Unrelated Segments,
Gang Green,
Nils Olav,
AZ,
Lou Reed,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aswad,
Absolute Body Control,
Mary Jane Girls,
R.M.O.,
Siglo XX,
The Wake,
a-ha,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Q and Not U,
Con Funk Shun,
Symarip,
Rod Modell,
Minutemen,
One Last Wish,
Colin Newman,
Sight & Sound,
Bill Wells,
Nico,
Section 25,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mission of Burma,
David McCallum,
Connie Case,
Young Marble Giants,
Basic Channel,
Joey Negro,
The Index,
Lindisfarne,
Ossler,
Sarah Menescal,
Pet Shop Boys,
Accadde A,
Hashim,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
Rosa Yemen,
Steve Hackett,
Second Layer,
Arthur Verocai,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rites of Spring,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.