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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the crunk 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dawn Penn,
Todd Rundgren,
Stetsasonic,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Move,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gong,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cecil Taylor,
Make Up,
Rotary Connection,
Wolf Eyes,
Pagans,
Neu!,
The Sound,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Harry Pussy,
Tommy Roe,
Max Romeo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Judy Mowatt,
Unwound,
The Monks,
The Five Americans,
Lindisfarne,
Kool Moe Dee,
A Certain Ratio,
Crooked Eye,
Siglo XX,
Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mars,
Loose Ends,
The Red Krayola,
Severed Heads,
Terrestrial Tones,
Grauzone,
Leonard Cohen,
Royal Trux,
48th St. Collective,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Techniques,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Offenders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Saints,
Q65,
Hoover,
New Order,
Wasted Youth,
Hardrive,
Pharoah Sanders,
Simply Red,
Neil Young,
June Days,
Subhumans,
Gang Green,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.