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 Swaziland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro 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 Cal Tjader to the techno 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Severed Heads,
DNA,
MDC,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Liliput,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skaos,
Judy Mowatt,
Donny Hathaway,
Graham Central Station,
The United States of America,
Los Fastidios,
Stetsasonic,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
the Human League,
Symarip,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cluster,
Ultravox,
Don Cherry,
The Invisible,
Spandau Ballet,
Rakim,
Eurythmics,
Nation of Ulysses,
KRS-One,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siglo XX,
Surgeon,
Swans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Doobie Brothers,
Section 25,
Unrelated Segments,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Red Krayola,
Blake Baxter,
Half Japanese,
The Index,
Drive Like Jehu,
Agitation Free,
Scion,
Altered Images,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Sherman,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Hood,
Gastr Del Sol,
Archie Shepp,
Danielle Patucci,
Mars,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.