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 Costa Rica and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet 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 Big Daddy Kane to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Animal Collective,
the Germs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spandau Ballet,
Nas,
Alphaville,
Lindisfarne,
Gang of Four,
UT,
Subhumans,
CMW,
Harry Pussy,
The Human League,
The Wake,
Sex Pistols,
Amon Düül II,
Gabor Szabo,
Sister Nancy,
Aloha Tigers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ice-T,
Moby Grape,
Urselle,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Japan,
Sixth Finger,
The Stooges,
Television Personalities,
Bush Tetras,
Nils Olav,
Bizarre Inc.,
FM Einheit,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Suburban Knight,
Cluster,
Todd Rundgren,
Judy Mowatt,
Essential Logic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slick Rick,
A Certain Ratio,
Organ,
Juan Atkins,
Swans,
LL Cool J,
the Soft Cell,
Icehouse,
Minnie Riperton,
Josef K,
Audionom,
Shoche,
The Trojans,
Ossler,
cv313,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
U.S. Maple,
Carl Craig,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rakim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.