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 Belarus and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Angry Samoans to the crunk 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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marmalade,
Scott Walker,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
The Flesh Eaters,
H. Thieme,
Siglo XX,
Pagans,
Groovy Waters,
the Slits,
The Sonics,
Gang of Four,
Stetsasonic,
Leonard Cohen,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bluetip,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nik Kershaw,
Scan 7,
China Crisis,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Swell Maps,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
T.S.O.L.,
Massinfluence,
John Lydon,
Deepchord,
Lyres,
Mr. Review,
Roxette,
Audionom,
Warsaw,
The Searchers,
Tom Boy,
Tomorrow,
Roxy Music,
Althea and Donna,
E-Dancer,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Circle Jerks,
Schoolly D,
Tres Demented,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
MDC,
Grey Daturas,
Godley & Creme,
The Saints,
The Sound,
Alison Limerick,
Alphaville,
Ituana,
T. Rex,
Joe Smooth,
Rotary Connection,
Mission of Burma,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Litter,
Derrick Morgan,
Albert Ayler,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.