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 Romania and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Flesh Eaters to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Goldenarms,
Aswad,
Chris & Cosey,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The American Breed,
David Axelrod,
Deadbeat,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
The Count Five,
Funkadelic,
Amon Düül II,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rakim,
Model 500,
Loose Ends,
Symarip,
The Beau Brummels,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Sherman,
Moebius,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doors,
Blossom Toes,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harry Pussy,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Byrd,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
Morten Harket,
Japan,
The Toasters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
T.S.O.L.,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minor Threat,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Jacques Brel,
Susan Cadogan,
CMW,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Patti Smith,
Nick Fraelich,
Procol Harum,
Agent Orange,
The Index,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Duran Duran,
Babytalk,
Lalann,
Fatback Band,
The Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.