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 Algeria and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 The Invisible to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agitation Free record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Masters at Work,
H. Thieme,
Guru Guru,
John Foxx,
Ornette Coleman,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doors,
Scrapy,
Faust,
Cameo,
Mars,
Amazonics,
Make Up,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
U.S. Maple,
Outsiders,
Lower 48,
Excepter,
June Days,
Jeff Lynne,
The Tremeloes,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Star Department,
Blossom Toes,
Mr. Review,
The Divine Comedy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ken Boothe,
Quando Quango,
Tim Buckley,
The Blues Magoos,
Monolake,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Techniques,
Wire,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
Japan,
Cluster,
Interpol,
Nick Fraelich,
Banda Bassotti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Can,
Intrusion,
Lungfish,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Gong,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
X-102,
The Searchers,
Danielle Patucci,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.