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 Argentina and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Donald Fagen 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 John Foxx to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Buckinghams,
Thee Headcoats,
Connie Case,
The Offenders,
Pole,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
Suburban Knight,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Parry Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Audionom,
Stiv Bators,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül,
Iggy Pop,
Wally Richardson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Don Cherry,
Flash Fearless,
Byron Stingily,
Chris Corsano,
Minny Pops,
Dave Gahan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jacob Miller,
Robert Görl,
Rufus Thomas,
Camouflage,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sällskapet,
Brick,
Agent Orange,
FM Einheit,
Symarip,
Qualms,
Aloha Tigers,
Country Teasers,
Yaz,
Echospace,
Inner City,
Basic Channel,
X-Ray Spex,
a-ha,
Tomorrow,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Bar-Kays,
Tim Buckley,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marvin Gaye,
The Litter,
Brand Nubian,
MDC,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.