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 Somalia and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Lou Reed 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 Main Source 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Los Fastidios,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mo-Dettes,
OOIOO,
Circle Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bob Dylan,
Sällskapet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Anthony Braxton,
Alton Ellis,
Wings,
Hoover,
UT,
Cheater Slicks,
Babytalk,
ABBA,
PIL,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
June of 44,
Vladislav Delay,
This Heat,
John Holt,
The Gladiators,
The Searchers,
Liliput,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crash Course in Science,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Mojo Men,
These Immortal Souls,
Roy Ayers,
John Lydon,
DNA,
the Swans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grey Daturas,
Half Japanese,
Roxette,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
48th St. Collective,
Yaz,
T. Rex,
the Germs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ludus,
Y Pants,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jerry's Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Sound,
Robert Wyatt,
D'Angelo,
Marvin Gaye,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joe Smooth,
Siglo XX,
Bill Wells,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.