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 Malta and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Buzzcocks 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Deadbeat,
The United States of America,
Scion,
Rites of Spring,
Marmalade,
Skriet,
Jeff Lynne,
Harry Pussy,
The Searchers,
Moebius,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barrington Levy,
Bootsy Collins,
Mo-Dettes,
A Certain Ratio,
the Slits,
Amon Düül,
Godley & Creme,
E-Dancer,
Funkadelic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
ABC,
Delta 5,
Basic Channel,
Cal Tjader,
Desert Stars,
Nas,
Boz Scaggs,
Scrapy,
Yazoo,
Sun City Girls,
Albert Ayler,
Underground Resistance,
Skaos,
Zero Boys,
Suicide,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Danielle Patucci,
John Coltrane,
Motorama,
Ituana,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ronan,
Deepchord,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pierre Henry,
Dual Sessions,
Oneida,
Al Stewart,
The Modern Lovers,
Circle Jerks,
Severed Heads,
Kayak,
The Standells,
the Sonics,
Eric Dolphy,
Johnny Clarke,
Lou Reed,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.