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 Andorra and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
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 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 The Monks to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Howard Jones,
Rakim,
The Offenders,
Negative Approach,
Electric Light Orchestra,
F. McDonald,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed,
Inner City,
Nik Kershaw,
Lakeside,
Tomorrow,
the Human League,
The Monochrome Set,
The Vogues,
The Sonics,
DJ Sneak,
Susan Cadogan,
Con Funk Shun,
the Soft Cell,
Cymande,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Music Machine,
Sparks,
Marc Almond,
The J.B.'s,
Newcleus,
the Association,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Star Department,
Ultra Naté,
the Germs,
Amazonics,
The Misunderstood,
The Beau Brummels,
Gastr Del Sol,
Model 500,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Essential Logic,
Jacques Brel,
Gong,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sister Nancy,
Radio Birdman,
Minny Pops,
Prince Buster,
Wally Richardson,
Aswad,
Porter Ricks,
Hoover,
Altered Images,
Neu!,
Sällskapet,
Scan 7,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.