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 Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Wally Richardson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bluetip,
Ludus,
Graham Central Station,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric Dolphy,
The Dead C,
Dennis Brown,
Patti Smith,
The Victims,
LL Cool J,
This Heat,
Infiniti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Blancmange,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suicide,
Steve Hackett,
a-ha,
Yazoo,
Stereo Dub,
Pagans,
Oblivians,
Nirvana,
Dual Sessions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minnie Riperton,
Deakin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Kinks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skaos,
The Pop Group,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ponytail,
The Red Krayola,
Brick,
Interpol,
Erasure,
Ultravox,
Cameo,
the Germs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultra Naté,
Cluster,
Stetsasonic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pylon,
The Gories,
Judy Mowatt,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.