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 Mexico and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Evens to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
In Retrospect,
The Happenings,
The Electric Prunes,
ABC,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Golliwogs,
Josef K,
Junior Murvin,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Prunes,
Porter Ricks,
Pole,
Trumans Water,
kango's stein massive,
Fad Gadget,
Das Ding,
Stetsasonic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Residents,
The Slits,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Last Poets,
Ultravox,
Gong,
Erykah Badu,
Laurel Aitken,
David Axelrod,
Quantec,
New York Dolls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Charles Mingus,
The United States of America,
Cybotron,
The Angels of Light,
Excepter,
Symarip,
Los Fastidios,
Hardrive,
Ralphi Rosario,
Newcleus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marmalade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Thee Headcoats,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cameo,
Mad Mike,
Aloha Tigers,
Nation of Ulysses,
John Holt,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Soft Cell,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Donny Hathaway,
Arthur Verocai,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.