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 Guinea-Bissau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cymande to the disco 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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Cheater Slicks,
Bush Tetras,
Angry Samoans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lakeside,
The Doors,
Todd Terry,
Mo-Dettes,
The Moleskins,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
David Axelrod,
Tommy Roe,
Motorama,
Carl Craig,
Subhumans,
K-Klass,
China Crisis,
John Cale,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fear,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Stooges,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons,
The Victims,
Technova,
Ituana,
Skarface,
Smog,
The Busters,
Popol Vuh,
Slick Rick,
Absolute Body Control,
Joyce Sims,
Barbara Tucker,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lyres,
Hoover,
Dual Sessions,
the Human League,
The Divine Comedy,
Cybotron,
Rakim,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Durutti Column,
Theoretical Girls,
Joe Smooth,
Arcadia,
The Raincoats,
Radio Birdman,
Ronan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Vainqueur,
The Kinks,
Von Mondo,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.