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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer 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 Lungfish to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The Human League,
Ossler,
LL Cool J,
Sam Rivers,
The Electric Prunes,
Lyres,
Infiniti,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Moleskins,
One Last Wish,
Ultra Naté,
Quantec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
cv313,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bad Manners,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cymande,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Das Ding,
June Days,
Minnie Riperton,
Nas,
Gang Green,
The Dave Clark Five,
Country Teasers,
Pierre Henry,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Hill,
Warsaw,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Gun Club,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Gories,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Blackbyrds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
48th St. Collective,
Royal Trux,
Sister Nancy,
The Modern Lovers,
Japan,
Monolake,
The Fuzztones,
Eurythmics,
Tommy Roe,
Inner City,
Theoretical Girls,
Soft Cell,
The Wake,
New York Dolls,
Vainqueur,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.