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 Laos and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 U.S. Maple to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Talk Talk,
The Mummies,
Tim Buckley,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Hutcherson,
China Crisis,
The Move,
L. Decosne,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Parrish,
Nik Kershaw,
A Flock of Seagulls,
New York Dolls,
Desert Stars,
Jesper Dahlback,
Loose Ends,
Roxette,
Morten Harket,
Agitation Free,
Wings,
Jeff Mills,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Victims,
Bronski Beat,
Arthur Verocai,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Radio Birdman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sun Ra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fear,
the Normal,
Rapeman,
Audionom,
The Trojans,
Duran Duran,
Isaac Hayes,
Dawn Penn,
X-101,
Mad Mike,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eve St. Jones,
the Sonics,
Heaven 17,
Groovy Waters,
CMW,
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Litter,
Amazonics,
Parry Music,
Severed Heads,
Vladislav Delay,
Unwound,
Surgeon,
Clear Light,
the Bar-Kays,
Barbara Tucker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mark Hollis,
Howard Jones,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.